Iuga Sortis II
by bana05
Summary: It's Ginny's fifth year and Draco's sixth. Fate only got funnier. (Sequel to Iuga Sortis: Bound By Destiny) :Complete:
1. One

_One_

_She drew the cloth over his bronzed chest reverently as she gazed upon his sleeping face._

You belong to my sister and yet . . . and yet, I belong to you . . .

_She sighed, dipping the cloth into the water basin and wringing out the excess water before moving to his face.  His features were strong, aristocratic, and for once, serene.  Set knew nothing of this latest resurrection, or at the very least she hoped he didn't.  Her sister was away with Apedemak, trying to think of ways to keep Osiris safe—and keep their feelings at bay._

I know all about denial, and it's not just a river in Egypt.

_She chuckled at her play on words as she moved the cloth over his cheek._

_"What's so funny?"_

_The voice was deep and raspy, clearly being used for the first time in a while._

_Her breath caught, and her eyes went quickly to his face.  Gray eyes locked with hers._

_"My lord, you are awake!"_

_"Your laughter awoke me."_

_Nephthys blushed with embarrassment.  "So sorry, my lord."_

_"No.  Do not be sorry.  I've always enjoyed your laughter."_

_This time her blush had nothing to do with embarrassment._

_"Where is—where is Isis?" he gasped._

_Nephthys's face fell in disappointment._

Of course he'd ask for her first!  _She's_ his queen . . .

_"I am not sure, my lord.  I think she is with Apedemak."_

_"I see . . . "_

_"Oh no, my lord!  Nothing like that!  I think they are going over plans to stop Set from coming after you again."_

_"I trust Isis.  I trust her with my life, which she, along with the help of Thoth and you, restored to me.  I thank you for it."_

_"You are welcome, my lord."_

_"May I rise?"_

_"It would be best if you didn't.  You haven't been fully restored for a fortnight yet."_

_"You've always taken such great care of me, Nephthys."_

_"We are family, my lord.  Of course I'd take care of you."_

_"Clearly that does not matter; otherwise Set would not attack me as he does."_

_"Jealousy and greed know no family ties, my lord."_

_"Truer words were never spoken, my lady."_

_His hand came up to hers; it had long since stopped wiping his face.  The rag fell unheeded to the bed as Osiris placed a tender kiss to the back of it.  Nephthys was sure she'd stopped breathing at the contact of his lips on her skin._

_"You are wonderful, you know that?"_

_She paused before replying, letting his compliment wash over her.  "So are you."_

_He smiled softly and closed his eyes.  He brought their joined hands to his chest, where she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath the back of hers._

_"Do you want me to stay?" she asked softly._

_"Mmm.  Forever . . ."_

_The last word was barely uttered as it floated into the air, but she heard it anyway._

Yes, my lord.  I will stay with you _forever_ . . .  

"Forever what?"

She groaned, grudgingly popping an eye open to see her brother looming over her bed.

"Sod off."

"No can do, little sister.  Harry and Hermione'll be here any minute, and Mum wants us to straighten our rooms before they get here."

"My room is decent.  Now go away." 

She turned her back to him and pulled the covers over her head.  It was disturbingly still before she felt the covers whoosh away from her.

"RON!"

"Rise and shine, Gin!  Let's see those pretty brown eyes of yours!"

"I'm two seconds away from giving you a lovely _black_ eye if you don't give me my blankets!"  She rolled over to her back and threw her arm over her eyes.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk.  Whatever happened to sweet Gin who used to adore me?"

"She regained her sanity."

"Such harsh words so early in the morning.  You're a regular hag when you wake up.  I fear for your husband."

"And I fear for Hermione," she mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing.  Nothing at all.  Now get out.  I need to change and make my bed since you were rude enough to mess it up."  

"I'm just doing what Mum told me to do."

"There's a first."

Ron stuck his tongue out at her as he left her room.  "Mum already went for Hermione, and I'm going to get Harry now, so be quick about it!"

"I hear you!"  Ginny sighed, and she sat up, her palms gripping the edge of the bed.

"Insufferable git," she muttered, then chuckled.  "Must be why I love him so."

They were a month away from going back to Hogwarts—Ron, Hermione, and Harry as sixth years and Ginny in her fifth year—and Ginny didn't think the month could go fast enough.  She was too excited to see her friends again, not to mention a certain Slytherin Seeker.

_His eyes looked so similar to that Osisis—whoever person._

Draco Malfoy, the boy who made her stomach delightfully queasy at the mere mention of "ferret."  The train ride at the end of her fourth year to Kings Station was, to say the least, eventful, and definitely brought their relationship to a totally new level.

_One would think snogging each other nutters would constitute going to a 'new level.'_  

Only thing she regretted was lying about it.  

_Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?_

Ginny's answer was vague, even to her own ears, but if Ron rear-ended the chessboard at the thought of one of his _friends_ dating her, she could imagine the bloodshed that would've ensued if she'd said his _enemy's _name.

_This could've all been avoided if I still liked Harry . . .well, maybe not.  Ron may have a problem with any bloke I decide to date!_

She'd need to owl Dean before Ron confronted him.  She hoped he wouldn't be too upset.  Maybe she could convince the twins to give her some products to give to Dean for free.  It's the least she could do for unwittingly subjecting him to Ron's temper.

"I'll deal with that later.  Right now I need to make my bed and get in the shower before they come."

Ginny had a quick shower, dressed, and was just finishing her bed when she heard voices from downstairs.

_They're here!_

She ran down the stairs into the kitchen and threw herself in Hermione's arms.  "Hi!  Welcome!"

"Hello to you, as well, Ginny!" Hermione laughed. 

"Ginny dear, don't run down the stairs!"  Molly Weasley chastised.

"Sorry, Mum!"

"All right, dears, I'm off to run some errands.  Do you need anything?"  Both girls shook their heads.  "Ron and Harry should be here soon; you'll tell them I'm away, won't you, love?"

"Yes, Mum, I will."

"There's a good dear.  See you soon!"  Mrs. Weasley stepped into the fireplace and flooed herself to Diagon Alley.  

Ginny smiled at Hermione and hugged her again.  "It's so great to see you!"  

"You too!  You've grown so much since I last saw you!"

Ginny had finally had her long-awaited growth spurt, and she almost matched Hermione in height.  Hermione's physical appearance, however, had changed little from the end of term.  Her hair was still as wild as ever, and she'd lost a little weight, but her face did had matured over the last three months.  It had less of a baby aspect to it, as if she'd finally growing into womanhood.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," she said sincerely.

Hermione turned pink and shook her head.  "Not really . . . ."

"Oi!  That's my line, Little Sister!"  Both girls jumped at the unexpected voice.  "And she's right, 'Mione.  You are."

Hermione turned positively red.  "_Ron!_"

"_Hermione!_" he teased, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek and hugging her.  "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."  The exchange was so soft and tender that Ginny felt she was intruding.

"It's about time, don't you think?"

The voice was deeper than she remembered it to be, and it sent shivers up and down her spine.  She turned around slowly.

_Dear Merlin!_

The big change was his height—he almost matched Ron now, and he'd gotten bigger over the summer.  His hair was in a shaggy cut, making the unruliness of it look appropriate.  His eyes were brilliant though there were faint dark circles under them.  The kicker was the little half-smile he was wearing, and Ginny had to remind herself to breathe.  In a word, Harry was gorgeous.

_Things would _definitely_ be easier if I could like Harry again._

She cleared her throat.  "They've decided to feed you, I see."

His smirk grew.  "With the 'promises' my aunt and uncle received as we left the platform, I think they had no choice _but _to do so.  I even got more food than Dudley!"

"Well, you look good, Harry.  Really good."

"Not too bad yourself there, Gin.  I'll bet _Dean_ will appreciate it," he said with a wink.

Ginny gasped and blushed.  Harry laughed outright and pulled her into a hug.

"I won't tell him, Gin.  I fancy my head right where it is."  

"How did you know?"

"You were gone for a long time, and when we left, Malfoy wasn't a slug anymore.  I may not be a clever as Hermione, but I'm not _that _daft!"

"I was talking to Nia," she muttered.

"Your lips were swollen.  Now if you swing that way then by all means . . . but Draco was in a state as well."

"Who swings where now?"

Harry scoffed.  "Not even funny.  I have to notice every little detail about everyone now.  I always have to be on my guard."

Ginny immediately felt shame at her insensitivity.  "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry . . ."

"It's all part and parcel of being the Boy Who Lived.  Your life is never your own."

She squeezed him tighter before pulling away slightly.  "That all changes now.  For the next month, your life, Harry Potter, will be _only_ Harry Potter's.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Can I get that in writing?  Better yet, why don't we owl Voldemort with your proclamation?" he said dryly.  Ginny scowled, and he grinned, placing a kiss to her forehead.

"Oi!  None of this . . . _kissing_ my sister in my presence!"

Harry and Ginny smirked at each other before Harry dipped her low and pretended to kiss her.  Ginny was surprised by his playful nature and heard Hermione giggle in the background.

"Geroff her!" she heard Ron yell and felt Harry being separated from her, causing Ginny to fall on her behind.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked as she helped Ginny to her feet.

"Yeah, no thanks to your git of a boyfriend!" she said, looking pointedly at Ron.

"I'm not her boyfriend!" Ron said automatically; then his whole face turned crimson.

"Oh _really_!  Well, what are you, then?" Hermione asked with hands on her hips.

"I'm—I-I'm your . . . your _man_ friend!"

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other before they burst into laughter.

"Great save, mate," Harry said sarcastically and patted Ron on the back.  

Ron was indignant.  "Your laughter is _not_ appreciated!" he growled and stalked outside to the backyard.

"I'll get him," Harry offered.  

Hermione held up a hand to stay him.  "I'd better go.  His issue is with me, and since he is a 'man,' we should discuss this like rational adults."  She nodded once and went to Ron.

"They're going to be worse than ever," Harry muttered.

"And snogging to boot!"  

Harry made a face, and Ginny laughed.  He scowled even further before he let himself chuckle.  "I'm happy for them.  I'm glad they've found each other."

"Or, more precisely, the clue."

"Took them awhile, didn't it?"

"Five years, yes."

It was quiet for a moment.

"I hope it won't take me that long to figure it out if I even _have_ the luxury to find love."

"I'm sure you will.  If anyone deserves it, it's you."

Harry smiled sadly and sat down on the couch in the living room.  Ginny sat beside him and put her head on his shoulder.  Harry's arm went around hers, and they sat in a comfortable silence.  Suddenly there were two cracks of air, and they jumped apart quickly.

"Don't try to move away now.  We saw the lovers' cuddle between you two!"

"Yes!  I see the two _Seekers_ have 'caught' each other finally!"

"That was awful, Fred."

"Let's hear you do better then, George."

"Hmm . . . I hope Harry's hands haven't closed around the 'snitch' yet!"

The twins laughed at their jokes while Harry turned as red as the Weasleys' hair in embarrassment.  Ginny growled.

"Go wank yourselves."

"What would you know about that?  Maybe Gin's turned 'beater' instead, hmm?  Was she good, Harr—_ow!_"

"HOW _DARE_ YOU _INSINUATE _AND USE SUCH _LANGUAGE_ ABOUT _MY _DAUGHTER!  YOU TWO SHOULD BE _ASHAMED_ OF YOURSELVES!  SHE'S YOUR SISTER, NOT SOME _SCARLET_ _WOMAN!_"   

Ginny could barely control her snicker at the sight of her mother holding each twin by the ears.  They winced and went down to their knees in pain.

"But Mum!  _She_ said—w-w-wank!"

"AND JUST _WHERE_ DID SHE LEARN IT FROM, FRED?!"

"I'm _George!_"

"NO!  _I'm _George!_"_

"I DON'T CARE _WHAT_ YOUR NAMES ARE!  DON'T _EVER_ USE SUCH LANGUAGE IN HER PRESENCE AGAIN, UNDERSTOOD?"

"But, Mum!  It's typical Quidditch vocabulary!"  

"_UNDERSTOOD?!"_

"Sorry!  Sorry, Mum!"

"Yeah!  We won't do it again, we promise!"

Molly turned their ears loose, and they collapsed to the floor like dead weight.

"Ginny, love, you shouldn't repeat what you hear all the time, okay?"

Ginny nodded.  "Yes, Mummy."

Molly smiled and kissed her on the forehead.  "Though I am happy for you two, dears.  You make such a handsome couple."  Molly kissed Harry's cheek in a motherly fashion before getting the bundles she dropped and went into the kitchen.

Ginny groaned and put her head in her hands.  "It would've been _so_ much easier if I still liked you."

"You don't?  I'm hurt."

Ginny huffed and glared at him.  He merely smiled.  "You're so cocky sometimes, you know that?"

He raised an eyebrow.  "Did the twins teach you that, too?"

"Oh _sure!_  Find something else to blame on us!"

"Yes!  I get the feeling we're underappreciated in this family, Fred."

"I daresay you're right, twin of mine."

All throughout the exchange, the twins were still prone on the floor.

"AAARRRGGGHH!"  Ginny stood and stomped out of the living room, Harry hot on her heels.

"I'm sorry, Gin.  I know what you meant."

"Humph."

"Are you two going outside, love?"

Molly had pots and pans going as she prepared their dinner.

"Yes, Mum."

"Oh good.  Ron and Hermione may need some company, don't you think?"

Ginny knew 'company' was a euphemism for 'chaperone,' and she chuckled.

"Yes, Mum, I'll go."

"Me too, Mrs. Weasley."  

Molly smiled and nodded.  "Off you go then.  Supper should be ready shortly."

The field was green with tall grass, and wild flowers popped up every now and again.  It was a beautiful countryside setting, and while her family wasn't wealthy in monetary terms, she felt richer in other, more substantial ways.

"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" she murmured.

"Very."

He was looking at her when he said it.

She blushed scarlet.  "Harry . . ."

"Your mum is right; we would've made a good looking couple."

"Well, Harry, we are two very attractive people."  He chuckled.  "But I don't like you like that, not anymore."

"I know.  I can't say I'm not _too_ disappointed by it, but you can't help who you have feelings for."  The last part was said with distaste.

"Do you believe in soul mates, Harry?"

He shrugged.  "I didn't believe in magic before I found out I was a wizard, so I guess it really doesn't matter what I believe or not."

Ginny squinted into the distance.  "I mean, that you were meant to be with someone before your birth."

Harry stopped walking.  "What are you saying?"

She shrugged.  "I don't rightly know.  Just thinking out loud."  Harry began walking again, and she waited for him to catch up with her.  They passed the next few minutes without speaking, and they finally reached the other couple.  Ron slept with his head in Hermione's lap while she reclined on one elbow and ran her other hand idly through his hair.  Ginny and Harry shared a smile at the sight.

"Oh!  Hello!" she said, rather sheepishly.  She glanced quickly at the boy in her lap, and she turned pink.

"I can see why you like him, Hermione.  He's rather cute when he's not talking," Ginny teased.

"I _heard_ that!" Ron muttered, his eyes still closed, but he gave a half smile to take the bite out of his words.

Ginny laughed and took a seat next to Hermione.  Harry followed suit, and the four sat in silence.

"It's so peaceful," Hermione murmured after a while.

"Just watch.  In two seconds, the twins will come out," Ron mumbled.

They chuckled.

"I wish it could be like this forever," Harry said sadly.  Ginny reached for his hand and squeezed it in comfort.

"Don't worry, Harry.  It will be soon enough."

"I've been anxious all summer.  My scar hasn't given me a problem, not _once_.  I'm afraid of what he's up to."

"Well, a great number of his Death Eaters are in Azkaban," Hermione reminded him.

"Yes, but I can't shake the feeling something is very wrong.  I dread what the new school year will bring."

"Speaking of a new school year, does anyone know who will be the new DADA professor?"  

"As long as it's not Umbitch, I don't really give a wank," Ron grunted.

"That's a horrible name to call her!" Hermione chastised.

"And yet, the only fitting one."  

"He's got a point there, Hermione," Harry agreed.

"Yes.  Good riddance to that old windbag," Ginny added.  

Hermione said nothing.

"Do you think it'll be Lupin again?  I sure hope it is," Ron said, finally opening his eyes.

"He's with the Order now; he may not have time to do it," Hermione said.

"I don't think Moody will do it again, not after the first go round . . ."

"Personally, I think Lupin's next assignment _will_ be to teach us.  Dumbledore wants to have someone there who will know how to defend us if the time arises.  And, quite frankly, Lupin was the best DADA professor we've had yet," Ginny pointed out.

"If not to keep his eye on me while he's at it; make sure I don't fall into a depression or something," Harry said forlornly.  There was a heavy silence that followed.  Harry's godfather Sirius had fallen in the latest battle with the Death Eaters, and Lupin was a great friend to him.  

Ginny rubbed his back in comfort.  "He was a good man, Harry."

"I know he was.  This never should've happened to him.  It was all my fault . . ."

"Harry, you couldn't have known!" Hermione reasoned.  

"If only I looked in that two-way mirror!  This could've all been avoided!"  

"Yes, but it's in the past now, Harry.   You can't change it."

Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair, doing absolutely nothing but make it messier.  "I kept it, you know . . ."

"Kept what?" Ron asked.

"The mirror.  In fact, it's in my pocket now."

"Oh _Harry!_  Why do you do this to yourself?  You know he's not going to respond . . ." Hermione said

"But I can't shake the feeling. . ."

"He's de—"

"No body was ever found!  I won't believe it until I see a body!"

"Fine then.  Use your two way mirror, and see if you don't get an answer," Hermione challenged.  

Harry was undeterred, and he took the mirror out of his pocket.

"Sirius Black . . ."

Ginny looked at him and saw the look of despair when no one replied.  She glanced at Hermione who was trying not to look so smug at being right this time.

"Harry, maybe you should let it go," Ron said gently.

"No!  Sirius Black . . . _please . . ._"  

There was still no reply.

Harry let out a grunt of frustration threw the mirror away from him before leaving the group.  Immediately Hermione and Ron went after him, and Ginny was suddenly by herself.

_What else is new?_  

She sighed as she stood and went to retrieve the mirror, knowing instinctively Harry would want to keep it anyway.  As she bent to pick it up, she gasped.

What was in the mirror was the last thing she thought she'd ever see.


	2. Two

_Two_

He was driving him insane.

"I rue the day I gave you that potion," he muttered as he rubbed his temples.

"You and me both, _Snivellus_.  Better that hell than this one with you . . ."

"Say the word, Black, and I'll send you back!"

"Word."

"Too damn bad.  Far be it for me to do you a favor."

"Typical Slytherin, going back on your promises."

"Need I remind you a 'typical Slytherin' saved your pathetic life?!"

"I didn't ask for it back!"

"Neither did I!"

"So why did you do it?"

"If you'd stop to think about someone other than yourself, you'd realize your _godson_ is necessary to help vanquish the threat to the wizarding world.  In turn, you need to be there for guidance.  What a bright idea that turned out to be."

"I'll bet you can't wait to tell your Dark Lord I've returned from the dead."

"Seems you two have _that_ in common."  

"Don't you ever compare me to your boss."

"Don't flatter yourself.  I wouldn't dare insult Dumbledore like that."

Sirius growled.

"Down, boy."

"I just bet you wish I would on you."

Snape's face mirrored his disgust.  "I'm surprised you haven't found some poor, unfortunate bitch to rut."

"Your mother wasn't available."

"Hmm.  Yours was busy, too?"

"She's dead, you prick."

"Bored her to death, did you?"

"Go to hell."

"Will you give me a tour?"

"If I were able, I'd give you a nice big bite in the a—"  

"Good morning Severus, Sirius!"  

Dumbledore walked in very cheery, the trademark twinkle in his eye brighter than usual.

"Good morning, Headmaster," the men muttered.

"Today is such a glorious day, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't know.  There are no windows in this hellhole," Sirius said as he looked pointedly at Snape.

"May I return him to his former hellhole, then, Headmaster?"

"You know he cannot return to his mother's house, Severus; it is too dangerous," Dumbledore said with a wink.

Sirius gave a bark of laughter, and even Snape couldn't dampen a smirk.

"If the house is so bad, why is that headquarters?"

"Ironically enough, it is the safest place as of right now."  Dumbledore formed a soft smile.  "Did you know it's Harry's sixteenth birthday?"

"Has it really been that long?" Sirius said in an awed voice.  "I still remember the day Lil told James she was pregnant.  Prongs fainted dead away."

"Yes.  Harry has grown to a remarkable young man, hasn't he?"

"Remarkable indeed, for rushing into situations blindly and foolishly.  Just like his father."

"His father saved your life!"

"No thanks to you!"

"Boys!  Please calm yourselves.  You'd think you'd be over this by now."  

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks, Headmaster," Severus cracked.

"You greasy sonofa—"

"Wonderful woman who, as I recall, made you cookies every time you visited Snape Manor, right, Sirius?" Dumbledore interrupted.  

He grunted his agreement.

"Now, if we are all done attacking each other's character, I say we sit down and have a nice spot of tea."

As Dumbledore poured it, the two men scowled at each other.

"Here you are Severus, Sirius . . ."

"Why do you always say his name first, Professor?" 

Severus rolled his eyes.  "Of all the petty, childish things to come from your mouth . . ."

"I just want to know why the Professor calls the name of a Death Eater before mine, is all."

"Perhaps because this 'Death Eater' has more worth in his little _toe_ than you have in your entire _body_ . . ."

"Gentlemen!  Let us at least _pretend_ we've finished school . . ." Dumbledore pleaded before they started arguing again.  

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Oh and, Severus, I hear Nia is coming soon, and spending time with _Caleb_, no less?"

He nodded to affirm the statement.  "Yes.  Apparently Jamilah forced the two to have a conversation, and it was agreed she'd spend time with them until term begins."

"Who is Nia?  And what does she have to do with the Johnsons?" Sirius asked.  

"Nia is Caleb's biological daughter," Severus said shortly.  

"_Biological?_  Why can't you just say daughter?"__

Severus sipped from his teacup to avoid answering more questions.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.  "Ah . . . yes.  Later in the week, I daresay.  Though in my old age, my mind slips sometimes . . ."

"How does Little One feel about this?"

Dumbledore shrugged.  "She's doing it, which counts for much."  

"Not as though Jamilah gave her much of a _choice_ . . ." 

Dumbledore laughed heartily.  "Right you are, my boy.  Once Jamilah gets something in her mind, there's no stopping her."

"Who _are_ these people?" Sirius asked exasperatedly.

"Do you remember Malika Roberts, Sirius?"

A lecherous grin formed on his face.  "Remember?  How could anyone _forget?!_  She had legs that went on for days and smooth cocoa brown skin and an a—"

"That.  Is.  My.  _Wife_ you are talking about!" Severus snarled.

Sirius sputtered before gathering his wits about him.  "WIFE?"

"Yes.  Wife."

"And _why_ aren't you in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable?"  

"Why aren't you _back _in Azkaban for being alive?"

"Oh, come off it, _Snivellus!_  The only way a woman would marry you is if you used Imperius on her!"

"This spoken from a bachelor . . ."

"I'm a bachelor by choice!"

"And because you're a convicted felon who's supposed to be dead!"

Sirius rolled his eyes and shook his head.  "Malika Roberts.  She and Lily were every boy's wet dream back in school.  Potter got Lily, and I was to get Roberts . . ."

"And then you woke up."

There was a steel edge to Sirius's voice now.  "Where is Malika now, hmm?  Why isn't she here with you, her 'husband'?"

Snape gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, and his jaw clenched with tension.  "She died, Black.  Happy?"

He chuckled shortly.  "Your ugly mug caused her to go into cardiac arrest, did it?"

"No more so than your 'bright' decision to make Pettigrew the Potters' secret keeper . . ."

"Both of you!  Quiet!  _Now!_" Dumbledore seethed.

Both men slouched in their respective seats.  

"_Never_ in all my years have I heard such callous remarks!  You are both adults, and you're acting like five year olds!  You are on the same side, like it or not, and you are to work together _cordially!_  If I _ever_ hear another slanderous thing coming from _your_ mouth, you'll know _exactly_ why Voldemort fears me so, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!"  

They nodded, too ashamed and embarrassed to make a vocal reply.  The three sipped their tea quietly, only the clinking of china interrupting the silence.

_Sirius Black . . ._

Snape's ears perked up at the name.  "Did anyone hear that?"

There was silence for a moment before—

_Sirius Black . . ._ please . . .

Sirius put down his tea hurriedly and fumbled through his robes.

"Ha!  Found it!"  He pulled out what appeared to be a mirror.

"Harry?!" he asked.  His face turned ashen, and he quickly shoved the mirror back into his robes.

"Did he see you?" Snape asked quietly.

Sirius looked at him then at Dumbledore.  "No . . . Ginny did."

~~~~~~~~~

"So!  What do you think?"

Angelina looked around the shop in wonder.  There were Belching Chocolate Frogs, eggs flying with wings, a spider plant that actually _looked_ like a spider, and a host of other weird and insane products in the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes shop. 

She raised an eyebrow at the Handcuffs with a Perpetually Missing Key on display.

"Uh, it's certainly an . . . _eclectic_ shop . . ."

"You hear that, Fred!  She said it was _eclectic!_" George called proudly.

"Of course it is, love!" Fred answered from the supply closet.  "But, ah, what does _eclectic_ mean?"

Angelina chuckled and rolled her eyes.  "You two are a piece of work, you know that?"

"Good work or bad work?" George asked.

Angelina sniggered.  "_Eclectic _work."  

"Angel, love, don't use words we don't know the meaning of," Fred said as he walked into the main area.  He went to her and kissed her briefly on the lips.

"That effectively cuts off ninety-five percent of the English language, then."

The twins scowled, and she giggled.

"You're lucky I love you, Angel," Fred muttered as he crossed his arms in front of him.

"That I am, love, that I am," she murmured and brought his lips to hers again.  Both forgot about the third person in the room until he none too subtly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," Angelina said shyly.

"Far be it for me to keep my brother from getting some; I just don't want to see it!" George teased.  

Fred glared at him before he turned his attention back to Angelina.  "I'm ready to go now."

"Great!  We'll Apparate to my house, and I'll drive us there."

"Where are you two going?"

"Going to the airport to pick up my sister."

"And why does this require Fred?"

"Moral support."

"Ah.  You're _so_ whipped, mate!"  

"You were whipped first, brother dear."

"Are we done now?" Angelina asked them.

"Yes, love."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Let's go, Fred.  I don't want to be late picking her up."

They said their goodbyes to George and Apparated from the shop to her house.

"Where are your parents?"

"They're out running errands.  They want everything to be perfect when Nia arrives."

"And _why_ am I here again?  Moral support?  You're a Gryffindor, Angelina!"

"You don't _want_ to be with me?" she pouted.  She rarely did that, but she knew Fred couldn't resist it either.

"Oi, Angel!  Don't do this!  Don't pout!  I can never deny you anything when you do that!" he moaned.

"This is what I know, love.  Now be a sport and come with me."

"I'd _gladly_ 'come' with you.  Just wish you'd give me five minutes to—"

"FRED!"

"Bygones, love."

"Insufferable git," she muttered but couldn't help but smile as she felt his lips at her neck.  "_Fred!_" she said again, but her body belied her tone as she leaned against him.

"You taste so good, love.  My sweet, dark chocolate Angel . . ."

"And you, my bland, ole vanilla Prankster, must let me go so we can leave!  We're tight on time as it is!"

"Bah!  I can't believe you called me bland!" he exclaimed as he got in the car.  "Dad would love this, by the way.  You should give him a ride in it sometime . . ."

"I will, at that," Angelina promised and revved up the vehicle.  

They drove to the airport speaking of anything and nothing at all, just happy to be in each other's company.

After what felt like forever to find a parking spot, Angelina and Fred walked inside to where Nia's gate was supposed to be.

"The last time I was in an airport was the summer before my fifth year when we went to visit Bill in Egypt.  We were right out of place then—all of us wearing our robes and mispronouncing things.  I'm glad you reminded me before we left the car, love."

"Anything for you, dear."  She looked at the monitor for arrivals and found the flight number.

"1857, she's at Gate Fifty."

Fred groaned.  "That's twenty gates from here!"

"Better walk fast, then.  The plane's already landed!"

They hurried through the airport, laughing as they had close run-ins with other travelers in the terminals.  By the time they reached Gate Fifty, they were both out of breath and panting; Fred was flushed from exertion.

"Do . . . you . . . .see her?" he ground out.

Angelina swallowed hard as she rose from her crouched position.  "Not _yet_ . . ." she drew out.  She rested a hand on his shoulder to lift herself a bit.  "Oh!  There!  I see her!"

Angelina left Fred's side and walked quickly towards her sister.  "Nia!  Nia!"

Nia had not changed much at all since the end of term.  In fact, it looked to Angelina like she gained more weight.

"Angie!" Nia exclaimed and ran toward her.  The sisters embraced happily.  "It's so great to see you!"

"Putting on a few pounds there, I see," she teased.  

Nia scowled at her.  "Not everyone can be as svelte as you, sister," she said.  "Those stupid pills I take for my . . . ahem . . . _cramps_ increase my appetite, which means I eat more and I gain weight."

"More exercise, then."

"Shut it."

"I am such a lucky guy—I get the presence of the two Johnson sisters!" Fred said as they walked towards him.  Angelina saw Nia wince, and she grew sad.

_She's still not used to hearing that,_ she mused.

"Hello, I'm Nia."  She held out a hand, and Fred kissed it.

"I am Fred Weasley, very nice to make your acquaintance."

"Making moves on my sister in my presence?  I didn't know you'd be so bold!" Angelina teased.

"I cannot help it if you sisters are so charming and beautiful!  A Weasley appreciates the finer things in life," he smirked.  Angelina rolled her eyes and linked her arm through his.

"You sounded just like Draco right then."

Fred gaped at Nia, and Angelina suppressed a giggle.

"You _dare _compare me to that Ferret?!"

"Weasels and ferrets are cousins, so to speak."

Angelina laughed outright then, and Fred glared at her.

"Be glad you're my Angel's sister, Nia."

"Be glad you're my sister's boyfriend, Fred."  The two smiled at each other, and Angelina knew a friendship had been made.

"I knew I was going to like you when you first hit Draco that day," Fred told Nia.

"When was this?  I've hit Draco loads of times—you're gonna have to be more specific."

"Oh, I love you now."  Fred grinned.  "But this particular time was when Angel sent you the first owl."

"Oh yes, I remember you were sitting next to her; I think you thought I was motioning to you."

"Did you now?" Angelina asked amusedly.  

Fred turned red from embarrassment.  "You know how potent the Weasley charm is!  Far be it for me to assume your lovely sister fell under the spell."

"I think it's limited to one person per family," Nia quipped.

"Good thing it is, no?" Fred winked at Angelina.  Nia grinned.

Angelina rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  "How was your flight, Nia?"

She sighed loudly.  "LONG!  There was this baby sitting behind me who wouldn't shut up from the moment we left Charlotte.  It was awful.  I couldn't go to sleep, and I've been antsy ever since I got on the flight.  I hate flying."

"That's horrible, NiNi, I'm sorry . . ."

She shrugged.  "Not much can be done about it now.  Oh!  The Olympics were in Atlanta this year!  I didn't get a chance to go, though, but it's wild to know they were only a coupla hours away from me!"

"What are the Olympics?"

"It's a Muggle event where athletes around the world compete for medals—gold, silver, and bronze," Angelina replied.

"Ah.  I see.  Something such as the Quidditch World Cup, no?" Fred asked.

"It's similar to that . . ."

"I'm going to get my luggage now," Nia announced, and she walked ahead of them.

"I wonder why she was antsy," Angelina muttered aloud.

"You heard her—there was a brat on the plane with her, and she hates to fly.  I'd be antsy too."

Angelina frowned and shook her head.  "No . . . there's something else going on here . . ."

"There goes your overactive imagination, love.  You've been hanging around Moody too much."

Angelina sucked her teeth and nudged him with her elbow.  "I've done no such thing.  Besides, that's one of the things you love about me—my imagination."

Fred smiled at her, and her stomach squeezed pleasurably.  "That it is, love.  But there are other things about you I love _more_.  Why don't we ditch your sister so I can show you _properly?_"

Angelina glared at him.  "Why don't I 'ditch' you instead, Frederick?"

He jerked at the sound of his full name and placed his hands at his heart.  "Oi, Angel!  You wound me so!"

"Be lucky I didn't mention your _middle_ name!"  All the color drained from his face, and she giggled.  "Don't worry, love!  I'm not _that_ evil . . . yet . . ."  She kissed the pout from his face, and his hands cradled her cheeks.  Very quickly the kiss grew passionate, and the hustle and bustle of the airport drifted away.

"_Hem hem._"

Both jerked away from each other quickly, Fred wiping his mouth and Angelina putting her hands to her cheeks.

"_Bloody hell!" _Fred gasped.  "You sounded just like Umbridge!"

Nia was doubled over in laughter, her voice clicking with the force of her giggles.  She couldn't get any words out, so she held her hand out, signaling to give her a minute.

"Laugh it up, NiNi, because this will be the last time you'll laugh for a while," Angelina said angrily.

"_Ooh!_" Nia got out before she succumbed to her mirth again.  She shook her head in apology as she leaned against her luggage for support.

"So . . . you were saying?" Fred asked, looking pointedly at Nia.

She gave a loud snort and continued to laugh.

Angelina crinkled her nose in distaste.  "Brilliant idea it was, Fred.  Let's ditch the sis."

They began to walk away, hearing Nia half laugh, half plead for them to stop.


	3. Three

_Three_

_Damn it all to hell.  The bastard's out._

He glanced over at his mother and noticed she was less than thrilled as well, something that rather surprised him.  For years his parents had put on a united front against the ideals his father espoused—purity of blood, the inferiority of Mudbloods and Muggles, the eradication of such taint from Hogwarts—but seeing his mother's lukewarm reception of his father made Draco pause.

"Welcome home, darling," Narcissa Malfoy said in a clipped tone, kissing her husband's cheek in a perfunctory manner.

"Narcissa . . . _Draco . . ._"

His eyes immediately narrowed at the drawl his father put on his name.

_He knows something . . ._

"Father."  He followed his mother's actions and kissed his father's cheek.  Lucius grabbed his neck and put Draco's ear to his mouth.

"You have a _lot_ of explaining to do, young man.  What is this I hear about you and the youngest Weasley?"

Draco controlled the gasp that threatened to sound.  Who _dared_ betray his trust?  Parkinson?  Goyle?  Crabbe?

"She _is_ rather beautiful, Father, and you _did_ tell me to appreciate beautiful things."

Lucius's mouth curled in disgust.  "You do not have feelings for the girl, do you?"

"Does lust count?"

Lucius raised an elegant eyebrow before letting go of his son.  "Make sure it doesn't escalate from there, hmm?  I cannot afford to have you cavorting with an ally of the enemy . . ."

Draco was proud that he didn't roll his eyes.  "I don't like Potter any more than you do, Father.  Surely you know that."

His father's smile held no mirth at all.  "Good.  It is as it should be."  He walked from the foyer into one of their vast drawing rooms.  The pair waited until he was ten paces ahead before following.  As the head of Malfoy Manor, Lucius demanded the respect of a king; anything less would not be tolerated.

"Dell!"

A frail, old house-elf poofed into the room, looking every bit as pathetic as he was.

"You called, Master . . ."

"Bring me a glass of brandy."

Dell hesitated and looked at the other two briefly before doing Lucius' bidding.  Draco snorted; though the elf had been there as long as he could remember, Dell still had the nerve to look to _them_ for permission before following Lucius' orders.  It was one of the most undercutting things an elf could do, and Lucius was none the wiser.

_How I wish _I _had the guts to do that . . ._

As it was, he _was_ being ornery by seeing Ginny Weasley in the first place.  And while Draco did feel lust for the redhead, it paled in comparison to the genuine affection his heart harbored for her.  He scowled.

"Draco, is something wrong with what I just said?"

He did not jump, though his blood pressure raised a significant amount.  He shifted his eyes to the identical gray eyes of his father. 

_Tread carefully, Draco.  You know you just got caught; make sure you don't say the wrong thing._

"No, Father, nothing was wrong with what you said."

"What did I _say_, Draco?"

"Something I dare not repeat to outside company."

Lucius looked at him through narrowed eyes before a corner of his mouth lifted.  "_Very_ good answer, Draco.  You're well on you way to becoming of use to the Cause."

Draco was sure he became translucent at the comment, the little color he had draining from his face.  He saw his mother's eyes flit toward him in apprehension before returning to their previous state.  Apparently Narcissa didn't want him to join the ranks any more than he did.

"How so, Father?"

Lucius looked pointedly at his wife.  "Narcissa, darling, I'd like to have a private audience with my seed if that is _quite_ all right with you?"  The sarcasm dripped from his voice like rain from a leaf during a storm.

"Yes, sweeting.  Of _course._"  She spared a warning glance at Draco before standing to go from the room

"By the way, Narcissa, Bellatrix is as lovely as ever.  You two should get together, catch up on old times . . . I know _we_ did . . ."  

Draco glanced at his mother and saw her body tense.  She said nothing as she left the room and didn't acknowledge Lucius before going; Draco knew she'd pay for that slight later.

Lucius gave a mirthless laugh.  "Wives, Draco, are like dogs.  They need to be trained properly or else they'll think you an equal.  That _bitch_ hasn't been trained properly—perhaps I was too lenient in my harboring some little affection for her.  But then again she'd always been partial to wolves . . ."  

Draco wanted his mind to wrap around that bit of information, but he couldn't afford to do so in front of Lucius.

"Father?  How would I be of use to the Cause?" Draco said, redirecting the conversation.

"Why, getting the Dark Lord his ultimate pawn!  First you've managed to get into Miss Weasley's good graces, and since we all know Potter has a soft spot for being the hero, it will only be a matter of time before he'll be lured again.  That's how we got Sirius Black . . ."

Draco's eyes bugged out against his will.  "Black?  You killed Sirius Black?"

"No, my son, not I.  Bellatrix . . ."

Draco suppressed the shudder at hearing the foreign tenderness in his father's voice.

"So you want me to use Weasley to get to Potter?  Hasn't she already been the bait before?"

"Once bait, always a bait."

"Why not Mudblood Granger, or the older Weasley—the ones closest to Potter?"

Lucius frowned.  "What is this, Draco?  One would think you're trying to keep you paramour away from the Dark Lord?"

Draco snorted.  "Well, she is _mine_.  We Malfoys aren't predisposed to sharing."

Lucius gave a slow smile and chuckled.  "Who said anything about sharing?  You'll give her up when he wants her."

Draco said nothing and clenched his teeth in anger.

"And just _why_ is the Little Weasel so special?  They're a disgrace to pureblood wizards, blood-traitors, and not to _mention,_ dirt poor!"

"You're a little fool, Son," Lucius sneered.  "Why else would I give her the diary in the first place?!  She's _full_ of ancient magic—magic that hasn't been seen in millennia!  She got _you in a Bat-Bogey Hex, did she not?"_

Draco's teeth clenched even more, and his face turned red.

"I was caught off guard—"

"A Malfoy _never gets caught off guard; not if they're worthy of the blood that flows through them.  Often I've wondered if that _precious_ wife of mine didn't taint her milk when she put you to suck."_

_No, it was _you_ who tainted her._

"So how do you explain your stay in Azkaban?"  The words left his mouth before he could tell his brain to stop them.

The expression on Lucius's face did not change.  "_Crucio."  _

Draco gripped the armrest of the chair tightly, vainly trying not to collapse to the floor in pain.  His eyes rolled in the back of his head from his efforts, and blood dripped from his nose.  His hands turned blue from his tight grip, and he let out a gasp; the only signal of his suffering—the signal Lucius was waiting to hear.

"Heed my words well, _Son_—do not speak unless beckoned to do so, and watch what you say carefully.  Son or no, you _will_ show me the respect I duly deserve."

_I'll give you what you deserve, all right, soon enough._

"Yes, Father," he wheezed.

Lucius smiled the epitome of an evil smile and ended the curse.  "_Good._  Now go and clean your nose.  I can't have you getting blood on this carpet—it's pure unicorn hide . . ."

Draco left the room without a word, his muscles and bones protesting with every step.

_Damn the carpet and damn you with it._

Draco wondered how he was ever lucky enough to get a father like his, a father with no amount of affection, except for fear, hate, and indifference.

_Fate, the old hag, has some explaining to do!_

Harry Potter didn't know how lucky he had it—a whole community of people who loved and adored him and all he could complain about was You-Know-Who killing his parents.

_Well cry me a river, then._

Draco walked into his washroom and cleaned his face.  He put down the rag and scowled at his reflection.  It was a work of art, of course; the Malfoys were a very attractive family.  It was as if the exterior beauty hid the ugliness inside.  He could feel the hate, distrust, violence, and cruelty flowing in his blood, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.  He was a weakling, just like his father said, but for a different reason entirely.

He wanted out of the "family business," and he didn't have enough guts to tell his father so.  

Behind the bravado he presented at school was a scared little boy trying to become a man.  His bark was _far_ worse than his bite, and he honestly didn't think he had the pluck to torture someone to the point of death.  Teasing and inflicting minor (or not so minor) bodily harm was one thing; torturing someone to madness or killing someone was something else _entirely_ different.  Quite frankly, the idea of torturing Mudbloods and Muggles didn't hold the same potential joy as it once did, though Granger and her lot would _always_ be an exception to that.  There had to be a way to get out of this; he just couldn't figure out what.

_You ain't in Slytherin for nothin'!_

The scowl melted into a smile as he remembered her—Nia.  The affection he held for the girl shocked even him.  She was opinionated (a bit _too_ opinionated for a twelve year old girl), bossy, loud, and yet the truest friend he'd ever had.  She wasn't scared of him and didn't tell him things he _wanted to hear, but the things he _needed_ to hear.  He appreciated her for it.  Often he wondered why it was they met on that fateful first night of term last year._

_There you go again . . . Fate . . . _

The frown reappeared on his face, and he left the washroom.  He'd been thinking a lot of destiny during this summer, and he couldn't figure out why.  Sure he was thinking about life after Hogwarts—he only had two years left there—but this question of purpose of life was a little too deep for him to consider, or answer.  And now his father had all but told him he _would _be a Death Eater.

_Joy_.

There was one thing Draco didn't do well and that was take orders from people.  He barely listened to his teachers in school, and he loathed his father for ordering him around as if he was some house-elf.  The very _thought_ of having to take orders from You-Know-Who filled him with a sense of dread yet irony.  Lucius often talked of being respected, and yet he prostrated himself in front of some half-human, half-snake freak of nature.  Draco snorted.  No wonder Lucius bullied him and his mother as he did; he needed to feel worthy _somehow,_ and You-Know-Who wasn't going to be the one to do it.  

_Torturing the less fortunate.  How pathetic._

Yet wasn't that what he did?  Tormenting Mudbloods and younger students as a way to feel better about himself?  To feel more powerful, more respected, someone to be minded?

_Dear Merlin, I'm becoming like my _father!

But wasn't that what every little boy dreamed of—to be as great as one's father?  Draco _wanted_ to make his father proud of him; he _wanted _his father's approval, but at the same time, he wanted it to be on _his_ terms—not Lucius' and _certainly_ not like this.  It was a sick and twisted conundrum Draco faced, and each day he played a delicate hand on how to deal with it.  This was the large thrust of his animosity against Harry Potter and to a lesser, yet very real extent, Hermione Granger.  Granger was at the top of the class, a Mudblood no less, and she did it effortlessly.  Potter caught everything quickly—from Quidditch to spells to popularity and adoration—all without breaking a sweat.  The only things Draco caught were grief, hostility, and fear.  Very few people knew the _real_ Draco, and not many of them cared to know him either—which was where his loathing of Ron Weasley formed.  

Ron Weasley, the poor, bumbling, _weasel_ who had the _audacity_ to look down upon him like crud from his shoe.  According to his father, the Weasleys were worse than Mudbloods—blood traitors who fraternized with the very people who were destroying the purity of the wizarding world.  While that might be, Draco couldn't care less.  What he _really_ cared about was the fact that the _Weasleys_ were _happy_ and he was not.  For all the money Draco had at his disposal, he retained little pleasure and happiness in his existence, and that annoyed him to no end.  What was the point of having the money if it didn't make him happy?  Not like he wanted to be as poor as the Weasleys _ever_, but surely there had to be _something_ or _someone_ who could make him happy.

_Ginger._

Draco grinned.  Ginger—Ginny Weasley—the firefly from Ottery St. Catchpole whose temper and personality match the fire red of her hair.  She was all passion—succulent passion that left Draco hungering for more.  The end-of-term train ride was the best thing he'd ever experienced, aside from being turned into a slug—he didn't enjoy that at all!  He licked his lips as he remembered the taste of hers on his.  She tasted of peppermint—she'd been sucking on the candy before then—and of the sweetest cream he'd ever had.  Her skin was soft to the touch and oh so pliant; it was as if he were sinking his fingers in marshmallows.  Her hands were small yet strong as they tangled into his hair, and the heat that radiated from her as she straddled him was enough to make him sweat.

Which he was doing now, profusely.

_Did it suddenly get hot in here . . . my pants seem to have shrunk . . ._

Or rather, something else _grew_ . . .__

_Shit!_

"Dragon, darling, are you in there?"

_Double shit!  _

"Yes!"

"May I come in?  I need to speak with you!"

_Triple_ _shit!_

"One second, Mother!"  He pulled out his wand and pointed to his extensive bookcase.  "_Accio Book!"_  A rather large book floated across the room and settled on his lap.  He opened it and flipped to a random page to give the illusion he'd been reading.

"You may come in now."

Narcissa Black Malfoy walked into his bedroom with a regal air.  Draco cocked his head to one side as he watched her come fully into his room.  Her silver hair was in an elegant chignon, and her dress robes were spun of the finest silk.  If Draco looked objectively, he would say his mother was very beautiful—beautiful and sad.  She rarely wore a smile, and if she did, it was _never_ around her husband.  In fact, Narcissa was rather cold to anyone she encountered.  But unlike his father, Narcissa at least showed him affection, if subtly so.  The most obvious was her nickname of Dragon.  She was the only person in the house who called him that, as if it were a secret reminder to him that she, in fact, loved him. 

She went to the foot of his bed and clasped her hands in front of her.  "My darling Dragon has grown into such a handsome man . . . you look just like your father . . . ."

Draco didn't know if she meant that as a compliment or an insult, so he kept his mouth closed.

Narcissa's face mirrored one of pain and urgency.  "Don't . . . _don't_ make the same mistake I did, Draco . . . _please . . ._"

"Mother?"

Narcissa sighed and looked wildly about the room.  "May I sit, Draco?"

He nodded, and she sat down next to him on the bed.  After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly.  Draco schooled his face not to wince at the pressure.

"What mistake, Mother?  What are you talking about?"

She squeezed his hand again, and he closed his eyes briefly to withstand the pain.  "This is the only time I feel totally comfortable telling you this, for your father is away at a 'meeting'—_don't_ fall into this life!  Get out!  Get out while you can!"

"Are you well, Mother?"

Narcissa laughed harshly.  "Am I _well?_  I haven't been well since my father betrothed me to Lucius!  If only I had enough fortitude as Andromeda, I could be _happy . . ._"

"Who is she?"

She glanced at him before focusing on a spot on the wall.  "She was my older sister—the middle child.  The 'black sheep' of the Black Family.  She went against Mother and Father at every turn; a blood traitor for marrying that Mudblood husband of hers."

"She stood up to Grandmother and Grandfather?"

"Yes.  She was my favorite sister."

"Why don't you speak of her?"

Narcissa shook her head, still staring at the wall.  "I was angry—angry at her for being strong enough to do what she wanted.  Angry at myself for not having the strength to do the same.  I was the youngest.  Bellatrix and Andromeda were closer in age than Andy and I, but I looked up to Andy very much.  Bella was the oldest; she had the beauty and the right socialization of proper pure wizard society.  Andromeda was the stunning, edgy rebel who loved to undermine the authority of our parents.  And I was stuck in the middle—not as beautiful as Bella, not as wild as Andy; just there.  I thought Andy was so wonderful—she gave me sweets, played with me, read me stories—Muggle fairy tales were my favorites.  Bella, on the other hand, had very little time for me, and when she _did_, it was to spew filth against Andy, calling her a disgrace to the Black name; just like our cousin Sirius was . . ."

"Sirius?  As in Sirius _Black!_"  Draco's eyes went wild at the revelation.

"I liked Sirius, actually; I remember tagging along as they played tricks against Bella, and they were so wonderful, but I knew I was more of a pest than anything . . . I feel so _awful_ about his death . . ."

Draco said nothing, his mind still on the bit about him being the first cousin once removed of a convicted murderer.

_Bah!  Your _father_ is a Death Eater.  Your family tree is _full_ of rotten fruit!_

"But you still haven't explained why you don't like Aunt Andromeda . . ."

Narcissa sighed deeply before she continued.  "When Andy announced she was marrying Ted Tonks, Mother gave her an ultimatum—him or us.  She—she chose him, and she was disowned.  We weren't allowed to contact her, nor she us.  It was as if she never existed.  I'd never felt so alone in my life.  Bella took me aside after it happened and said, 'That's what blood traitors do, Sister Dear.  They break up families, weaken bonds.  You loved her very much, and what did she do?  She walked out on you.  She didn't love you, never did.  She loved the Mudbloods more.  Stick with your own kind, Narcissa.  Stick with purebloods.  Purebloods are loyal.  That's the only way to guarantee keeping your family together, or else they'll walk out on you.'  

"Bella played on my hurt and I believed her.  I believed everything bad that was said about Muggles and Mudbloods because they took my favorite sister away from me.  When your father came, it all but sealed my fate.  The Malfoys are one of the wealthiest pureblooded families and among the oldest as well.  It didn't matter if he was older than I; I was to be his, and there was no telling no to a Malfoy.  I'll admit I was very flattered by the attention, but I wasn't naïve.  Had Bella not been promised to Lestrange, Malfoy would've married her in a heartbeat.  She was far more suited to be the wife of a Malfoy, and I . . . I had already given my heart to another . . ."

Draco frowned.  "Who?"

Narcissa shook her head.  "I shouldn't tell you.  I fear I've told you too much as it is, but I just wanted you to know I would support you if you said no to your father.  Nothing would make me happier, in fact.  For the past eighteen years, I've lived in hell.  I don't want you to spend any more time in it than you have to, Dragon.  I've sacrificed too much for you to throw it away because you're too weak to stand up to your father."

Draco jerked as if she smacked him.  "You think I'm weak?"  He couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice.

Narcissa smiled sadly and cupped his cheek.  "No, my darling boy, I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for.  Just having affection for the Weasley girl proves it."  Draco's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to deny her statement.  Narcissa grinned and put her finger to his lips.  "Don't bother to deny it, Dragon.  A mother knows when her son is in love."

Draco sputtered.  "L—love?  What of _love?_  I lust after her, that's all!  I'm too young to be in _love!_  Aren't _you_ the one who's supposed to tell me that?"

Narcissa laughed lightly.  "Oh darling Dragon.  Love knows no age.  You love her, but you're too stubborn to admit it."

"And how do you know?"

She became sad again.  "The look you get on your face when you speak of the Weasley girl is the same your father gets when he speaks of Bella."

Draco heard the despair in his mother's voice, and his heart ached.  She'd been living in her own personal hell, stuck in a loveless marriage with a man who openly flaunted his affair with her sister while she apparently couldn't be with the man she loved.

It was all his fault.

Her hand came back to his face, and she locked her blue eyes with his.  "I thank Merlin and the gods every day for you, Draco.  You're my angel in this hell, my light."

Draco felt the unfamiliar tightening of his throat and tears stinging his eyes.  "Mummy . . ."

Narcissa smiled and kissed his forehead lingeringly.  "Draco Andrew Malfoy.  I named you after Andromeda, for I want you to have her essence and go with the person you love.  She was the only one of us who did, and that is why I believe she made her decision to leave.  She trusted the love of Tonks, and his love gave her the courage.  Something tells me this Weasley girl will be your Tonks, Dragon.  Have faith, trust in that love you have for her.  You may look, sound, even act like your father, but there is a very important difference between you and him you must never forget, Draco."

"What is it?" Draco asked, his being filled with hope.

Narcissa's smile grew softer and she framed his face in her hands.  "The difference is you are _not_ your father."


	4. Four

_Four_

He ran his silver hand through his hair in frustration.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are . . ." he sang as he searched the maps. Modeled after the Marauder's Map, these were of entire cities and countries of Europe, pinpointing every known witch and wizard to their location. It was a powerful map; it could even find witches and wizards under the Fidelius Charm and their Secret-Keepers. This was without a doubt one of the most powerful weapons in their arsenal.

_And that old bat Dumbledore hasn't a clue we have it._

As it was, he wasn't looking for Harry Potter as he should; he was looking for _her_. The girl. Only problem was he had no idea who she _was; _he could only feel her presence stronger than it had been all summer.

He had to find her and soon.

He exhaled harshly and looked at the map of England again. He didn't know why, but his eyes kept drifting to _V. Weasley._

He frowned in confusion. _It can't be her . . . can it?_

"Wormy!"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. _Duty calls . . . _

"I will be there shortly, my lord." He rolled up the maps and shrank them to fit in his pocket before he made his audience with Voldemort.

_Voldemort the Unhinged._

Ever since inhabiting Potter's body three months ago, Voldemort had been a rambling idiot, all the more obsessed with killing Potter and taking control over the wizarding world. It was enough to drive Pettigrew insane.

"Wormy, I have the most _brilliant_ of plans!" he exclaimed as Wormtail entered.

"Yes, my lord?"

Voldemort halted a bit. "Are my Death Eaters out of Azkaban?"

"Yes, my lord. They await your orders even as we speak."

Voldemort smiled his lipless smile, and Pettigrew suppressed a shudder.

"We will summon them soon . . . but I've found my key; I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize it . . ."

"My lord?"

"Ginevra."

Wormtail frowned. "Ginevra?"

"Yes! Don't you see? Potter has affection for the girl! He proved it when he saved her from the Chamber four years ago . . ."

"The Chamber?"

"The Chamber of my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. Only one as worthy as she could unlock the secret of the diary and use it."

Pettigrew frowned. "Didn't Potter use the diary as well?"

Voldemort growled, but it came out more as a squeal. "So?"

"But he won . . ."

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed into ominous slits. "_Crucio!"_

Pettigrew dodged the curse and heard it crash into the wall behind him.

"You _dare_ to avoid your punishment?" he all but screeched.

"If I wanted, I could put _you_ under the Cruciatus Curse, but that would ruin my plans."

Voldemort's red, pupil-less eyes grew wide at Pettigrew's boldness.

"_Avada Ked—"_

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I know some things you don't know which will help you get control of the wizarding world."

The curse on Voldemort's tongue died as quickly as it'd been born. "You know something?"

"I know a lot of things."

"You've changed, Wormy. Ever since last Christmas, you've grown a backbone."

"Why do you think you tried to get the Weasley girl in the first place? She's full of ancient magic!"

"I know that!"

"No, you don't."

Voldemort's mouth opened in a state of shock. "_You_ have the _audacity_ to tell _me_ I don't know something?"

"Yes. You don't."

"_Why you little_—"

"Don't speak, Voldemort. You are in no position to talk."

Voldemort sputtered, clearly speechless.

"Sit."

Pettigrew watched in amusement as the Dark Lord took orders from his subordinate.

_Game on._

"I'm going to tell you a story, and you're going to be quiet. Is that understood?"

Voldemort nodded his consent.

"You are a pawn. You only have the power because I _chose_ you to have this power. I saw you when you were a student at Hogwarts, and you were powerful even then. I knew you'd be the most powerful wizard the age has ever seen, and I haven't been proven wrong. Dumbledore is of no consequence—he can only do so much. But _you, you_ can give me what I want—what _we_ want. You can have your wizarding world. All I want is _her_ and none of those pesky Muggles in my way . . ."

"Wormy?"

"Shhh . . ." Pettigrew put his forefinger to his lips to still Voldemort's words. "Didn't I tell you not to speak?"

Voldemort nodded.

Pettigrew sighed and continued. "The events you currently find yourself in have been in motion since the beginning of time. _I_ was to rule, but no. That brother of mine had to be born. He got everything—the power, the glory, _her . . .Isis . . ._"

Pettigrew could see the question in Voldemort's eyes, and he nodded.

"Yes. The most powerful magician who ever lived—witch or wizard. Whoever had her had the power, and Osiris, my brother, had her. He also took my wife, Nephthys. Greedy sonofabitch he was . . ."

"You are _Set!_"

"That I am. And _you_ are my servant. You answer to _me . . ._"

It was then that Voldemort let out a laugh so jubilant Pettigrew was sure hell had frozen over.

"Oh Wormy! Surely you have lost your mind! That can be the only explanation as to why you risk certain death by insulting me."

"The only person who will die is _you _if you do not heed my words. Now listen to me and listen well—leave Potter alone this year."

"_WHAT?!_"

Voldemort's anger rose to new heights, but Pettigrew remained undeterred.

"Your problem, _my lord_, is you're too hasty. You're so _obsessed_ with killing the boy and taking over the wizarding that you can't do _either!_ So, now that I'm back, I will _help_ you get what you want, but it will be done on _my terms_ and _my way_, or so help me, Potter will be the _last_ person of your concern."

"And what makes you think I'll listen to you?"

"Because . . . the last time you didn't listen to me, you ended up dead."

ssssssssssss

"What is wrong with you? You've been staring at them ever since we came here!"

"Not now! I have to make sure he keeps his hands off of her . . ."

"What does it matter anyway? She's dating _Dean!_"

"No. She isn't. I owled Dean about it, and he wrote back saying he knew nothing of the sort. But then the git said he wouldn't _mind _dating her. I promised him a good hex if he ever touched my sister . . ."

"Oh _Ron . . ."_

"No, Hermione! _She_ made it up, and now it's time to find out why. I personally think something's going on between them. Look at him! Harry can't keep his eyes off her!"

"Ginny is a beautiful girl, Ron. Of course there would be boys who fancy her."

"Over my dead body!"

"I personally like it alive, myself. I _especially_ like it when your ears turn all red like they are now . . ."

Ron sputtered and wrenched his attention from the couple playing Exploding Snap in the living room. He didn't care that there was water all over the countertops and floor from his "washing dishes."

"My ears do _not_ turn red!"

Hermione sighed, took the long-abandoned plate from his hands and washed it. She set it in the drying rack and turned to face him again. "Oh yes, they do. Right here . . ." She reached out and fingered the tips; his eyes fluttered.

_Apparently, there's a nerve there that connects to another part of my anatomy . . . damn it all to hell._

"Are you all right, Ron?" she asked as she rubbed his ears.

He frowned. "I am most certainly _not_ all right! Your touch drives me mad, woman!"

"Fine then, I'll stop." She began to move her hands away, but Ron snatched them into his. "Ron, let go."

"Tut, tut! I told you in the hospital wing I wasn't letting you go." He grinned. He saw her blush, and his grin grew larger.

"Surely you didn't mean in the literal sense . . ."

"Admit it. You like it when I touch you, when I hold you, when I kiss you . . ."

The rest of his sentence drifted away as his lips matched his words. Her lips were so soft under his, like rose petals.

"Oi! None of this . . . _kissing_ my best friend in my presence!"

Hermione giggled at Harry's familiar exclamation. Ron groaned before pulling Hermione closer to him and kissing her fully. Choking sounds could be heard, and Ron made a vulgar gesture with his fingers in their direction.

Slowly Ron ended the kiss and framed her face with his hands. Her face was red as a rose, and she was breathless.

She made _him_ breathless.

"Merlin, you're beautiful . . ."

She became even redder and hid her face in the crook of his neck. He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"You two are sickeningly sweet. I think I have a toothache!"

"Don't get any ideas, Potter! I have my eye on you . . ."

"What for? Hermione not pretty enough for you?"

"Shut up, Gin!"

"I'm just saying . . ."

"Well, don't say anything!"

"Don't yell at me, Ron! I'll tell Mum!"

"What are we, _three_ now?" Harry interjected.

Ron was getting a headache, and it was all because his best friend and sister were acting as chaperones while his parents were out.

"I'm a man! I don't need a bloody chaperone . . ." he muttered.

"I don't know about the _man_ part, but you _are_ the oldest," Hermione said into his neck before placing a soft kiss to it. Ron shivered, and he felt her smile against his skin.

_This woman will be the death of me . . . and what a sweet, wonderful death it will be . . . _

"What? Not old enough for you? Maybe someone like _Krum_ is more your cup of tea!"

"And maybe someone like _Fleur_ is more yours!"

Ron rolled his eyes. Why did she always have to bring her up?

"_Fleur_ is part _veela!_ What's _your_ excuse for _your_ infatuation?"

"I don't know . . . maybe he _noticed_ me when someone _else_ was too thick to do so!"

It amazed Ron how little it took to instigate an argument between them. First they were kissing, now Hermione stood before him with her hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, insinuating he thought her ugly.

She couldn't be ugly even if she tried.

"_He's _the Seeker! Of _course _he'd notice you!"

Ron knew immediately he'd said the wrong thing when her ears drew back in indignation.

"Was I really that elusive? Was I really that hard to spot? That hard to catch? I know I'm not as shapely as Lavender or Pansy, but dear goodness, I _thought_ I had some feminine characteristics that would clue you in to the fact I was a _girl!_"

His eyes flitted across her body entirely on their own volition. If Ron couldn't spot the characteristics two years ago, he could _definitely_ spot them now. While not as voluptuous as Pansy or Lavender, there was no possible way for anyone to confuse Hermione with anything but a woman.

His woman, to be more precise.

"Look in my _eyes _when I'm talking to you! And wipe that grin off your face! _Honestly!_"

"I just wanted you to know that I noticed you're a woman now!"

"Yes. And all it took was for me to grow some breasts."

"And what a lovely pair they are . . ."

"Ron! You did _not_ just say that!"

"Well, it's true! Best pair I've seen yet!"

Hermione gasped and crossed her arms over her chest.

"_Ron!_"

"If I had a pair as lovely as yours, I wouldn't be ashamed of it!"

"If you had a pair as lovely as Hermione's, I'd check you into St. Mungo's stat!" Harry piped up. Ron and Hermione turned in their direction and noticed Harry and Ginny watching them with rapt attention.

"Why are you just looking at us?" Hermione asked.

"This is _far_ more entertaining than any game of Exploding Snap!" Ginny smirked.

"_Why_ are you looking at my girlfriend's pair?!" Ron asked, anger rising in him as he glared at Harry.

"Have you been watching _ER_ again, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry wisely chose to answer Hermione's question. "What's that?"

Ron frowned as he watched her roll her eyes at Harry's comment. "You aren't the _least_ bit concerned Harry's noticed your chest?" He was appalled.

_She has the nerve be upset with me for noticing her . . ._femininity_ and all Harry gets is a question about some _ER?

"No. Because _he_ didn't need _them_ to distinguish me as a feminine form of our species."

"I didn't need them either! I just think they're nice additions to an already perfect form."

"Save it, Ron. You're already in trouble."

"But I mean it!"

"And I mean it too! Don't talk to me until you think with the head _above_ the belt!" And with that, she spun on her heel and stomped up the stairs that creaked in protest. A door slammed hard.

Ginny groaned and began to follow her.

"Gin, wait!"

"I'll go talk with her," Harry said and went upstairs.

Ron sighed and turned to his sister. She had Molly Weasley's glare down to a tee.

"Gin—"

"I swear to Merlin if you weren't my brother and I didn't have this no-magic ban hanging over my head, I'd hex you good!" Ginny seethed.

"Thank Merlin for both, then," he said sheepishly.

Ginny's eyes narrowed into slits. "Is that all you can say? You practically treated Hermione as if she were a piece of meat! Don't you think there's something wrong with that?"

Ron frowned. "I didn't intend for it to be that way! I just wanted to prove that I _did_ notice she was a girl!"

"Do you know I'm a girl, Ron?"

Ron that was the stupidest question she'd ever asked. "Of course, Gin!"

"Did that require you to look at _my_ breasts?"

"Ginny! How could you ask me a thing like that?!" He was sure he was turning red with embarrassment and green with disgust.

"Well?" She put her hands on her hips and looked at him expectantly.

Ron knew she wouldn't let the question go, and he hated her for it. "Of _course_ it didn't require me to look! You're my _sister!_ That _automatically _makes you a girl!"

"So! If Hermione was your sister, you'd know she was a girl?"

Ron shuddered. "She's _not_ my bloody sister, thank you very much! And _no!_ I knew Hermione was a girl! I just never _considered_ her as a _girl . . ._"

"That's basically what you told Hermione! That you didn't notice anything feminine about her until puberty hit!"

"But I didn't mean . . ."

"Doesn't matter if you did or you didn't. The point is it happened, and now Hermione probably thinks the only reason why you're with her is because she has two nice additions! You can be such a _prat_ sometimes!"

"Well, I've been noticing Harry check out _your_ 'additions'!"

Ginny gasped and sputtered. "How dare you!"

Ron scowled. "How dare I what? Call you out on your relationship with _Dean?_"

He made air quotes with his fingers when he said "relationship." Ginny gasped again, but this time there was fear in her eyes.

"How—how do you—"

"I owled Dean as soon as we got back from school. He told me you two weren't dating. I was just waiting to see if I caught you and Harry in the act . . ."

"Me and Harry?"

"Yes, you and Harry! Why couldn't you tell me you two were dating in the first place?"

"But we're not dating, Ron—"

Ron kept ranting, not bothering to listen. "That wasn't very nice of you to use Dean like that. The very least you could've done was let him know he'd be a scapegoat for my wrath!"

"For your _wrath?"_ she echoed, amusement laced through her voice.

"_Yes, _my wrath! You don't want to trifle with me! I'm a Weasley!"

"And so am I!"

"But you're the baby!"

"Do I _look_ like a baby to you, Ron?"

He pouted, not wanting to concede his sister's point but knowing he had no choice. "You're not a baby."

"Then stop _treating_ me as such! I'm a big girl now, able to make my own decisions—and that includes _who_ I date!"

"I hear you . . ."

"And hear this—_don't_ EVER say anything like you did to Hermione again! To _any_ girl!"

"Yes, Mum!"

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

He groaned. What was it with the women in his life calling him by his full name?

"Yes, Ginny! I understand, and I won't do it anymore."

"Do _what_ anymore?"

Ron groaned again. "Mention women's additions."

"_And?_"

"Pester you about some bloke you're dating!"

Ginny reverted back to the sweet, innocent little sister he'd lived with until he was eleven, and he sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Ronniekins. Now go make up with your girlfriend. I wouldn't fancy being at the end of a wand held by an angry Hermione!"

"You and me both, sister dear," Ron said, and he went to find Hermione. He went to his sister's room and knocked hesitantly.

"Who is it?" she called.

Ron gulped. "It's—it's me!" he squeaked. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "It's me, Ron."

There was no reply, but shuffling could be heard. Suddenly the door opened, and Ron jumped in surprise.

"How is she, Harry?"

He looked back in the room and pulled the door closed before answering. "She's right angry with you, Ron. But I think she's more hurt than anything else. You better fix this. I don't fancy having you two arguing all year! You're prefects, liable to take your anger out on the whole of Gryffindor Tower!"

"We wouldn't do that, mate . . ."

"Oh yes, you would. Maybe not intentionally, but you would, just to try to one up each other. So please, for every Gryffindor's sanity, make up with her!"

"You mean apologize," Ron scowled.

"You have to admit that was kind of cruddy of you to say that."

"You noticed!"

"Yeah, but I had the good sense not to _say_ that in front of her! Besides, I'm not the one dating her!"

"But you _are _dating Ginny!"

"_What?_"

"Don't deny it Harry! You fancy my sister!"

"You're off your rocker!"

"No I'm not! You've been staring at her and sitting close to her ever since you got here!"

Harry's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and his cheeks turned red. Ron smirked in triumph.

"Well, I do think she's pretty . . ."

"Aha! So you _fancy _her!"

"No! Well . . . I wouldn't say no if she asked me to Hogsmeade, but we're not dating."

"What is with this 'if she _asked_?_'_ You're the man! You ask!"

"She'd say no," Harry muttered and leaned against the doorframe.

"Why would she say no? You're the Boy Who Lived! She's had a crush on you ever since she could speak!"

"Not anymore. She fancies someone else."

Ron saw red. "_Who?_"

Harry instinctively pressed closer to the frame. "You're going to have to ask her yourself, mate."

"I thought we were best mates! You should tell me what kind of bloke dares to catch my sister's interest."

"No, thank you. No need to be the cause of you going to Azkaban for murder. Hermione would kill me!"

"Would I like this bloke?"

Harry was silent, as if judging his words. "He's not for you to like . . ."

"Wrong answer!" Ron growled, and he pinned Harry against the wall. "_Who is he?"_

"Ron! Get off of him now!"

"I knew you'd react this way! And I haven't even told you his name!" Harry gasped.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Peachy," he answered sarcastically.

"Dear Merlin, man! If this is the way you act about your sister, I pray you never have _daughters!_" Harry half-joked.

"Ronald! Come here!" Hermione said as she dragged him into the room. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Some wanker thinks he can date my sister! I'm not having it!" Ron answered angrily.

"What does this boy have to do with you?"

"He could make her into some _scarlet woman!_"

"And why would he do that?"

Ron looked at her as if she'd grown another head. "_Hermione!_ You said it yourself! Boys our age only think with one head—the one below the belt. I don't want my sister to be caught up in one of its stupid ideas!"

"Oh, but it's okay for _me _to be caught up?"

Ron frowned. "What are you on about, woman?"

Hermione sighed and plopped down on the bed. "I'm seeing _you,_ aren't I? You're a boy your age, obviously. And _clearly_ you think with the head below the belt. So am _I_ a scarlet woman? Won't be the first time you've called me such."

Ron felt his face grow red. "No, Hermione! You're _nothing_ like that! You're the best girl any bloke could want!"

"And shouldn't you give your sister that same courtesy? She's not stupid, Ron. She knows if a boy is good for her or not. You should really trust her judgment."

Ron sighed and sat next to her. There was silence before Ron nodded and gently took her hand in his. "You're right, 'Mione. I should honor my word and stop treating her like a child. It's just that . . . she's my baby sister, the only girl. I'm supposed to be her protector."

"And you _are,_ Ron! But you can't protect her from life. It's going to happen sooner or later; when she meets The One, and she'll get married and have kids. What are you going to do? Have a stakeout across from the hotel on her wedding night?"

"That's not a bad idea, 'Mione . . ." He rubbed his chin in thought.

"Ron!"

"I'm just kidding."

"Good."

"And I'm sorry for objectifying you earlier."

Hermione blinked and frowned, and he worried he'd said the wrong thing.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you _know_ what objectifying means?"

Ron's mouth dropped open in indignation, and he almost missed the glint in her eyes.

She was teasing him.

"Come here, you little minx!" he demanded. Hermione squealed and ran from the room, Ron following in hot pursuit.


	5. Five

_Five_

_To win the Battle of the Gods, give Set what he wants.  To fight him will only cause death and destruction.  Give him Isis.  Then, and only then, will the Battle end._

The words of the first scroll tumbled in Dumbledore's head endlessly.  They baffled him.  How could giving Set what he wanted bode well for the side of good?

"Any thoughts?" Jamilah asked.  She put down the papyrus sheet and leaned her arms on the table.  They were downstairs in Jamilah's home in the secret room.

"I don't understand!  I thought these scrolls were to _help_ us!"

"There must be something we're missing . . . perhaps the second scroll will clarify the first?"

Dumbledore sighed.  "That would be wonderful, only if we could _open_ the second scroll . . ."

After numerous spells, charms, and Muggle methods, the scroll remained sealed and unread.

"There must be some way to open it," she mused as she glared at the elusive document. 

"Yes, but it's obviously magic-sensitive.  It will only open for the person with the right magical make up."

"That does us absolutely no good right now!"

"Be patient, love.  What does it say about Thanatos?" Dumbledore asked.

Jamilah scanned the scroll quickly.  "He will disappear the year before the Battle begins.  The Sisters beware."

"I wish I learned to read hieroglyphics.  As it was, I was entirely too busy learning _other things . . ._" 

Jamilah shuddered at the hidden meaning.  "Ugh, Granddad!  I ain't need to hear that!"

"Well, it was during one of those lessons your mother was conceived, young lady!"

She snorted.  "I'm hardly young."

"Compared to me, you're a toddler."

"_Anyway . . ._ what does this mean?"

Dumbledore grew serious.  "They will not attack Mr. Potter, directly anyway."

"Why?"

"They have a new target."

Jamilah gasped.  "It's not—"

"No.  It's not.  They still don't know who she is yet, but we should all be wary.  There is a chance they could discover her."

"How do you. . . never mind."

Dumbledore chuckled briefly.  "You of all people should know better than to ask me such a question."

"Duly noted."

"I wish I knew another way to end this Battle before it even starts."  

"You can.  You'd just have to give him my granddaughter, and I'm afraid I won't let you," Jamilah said seriously.

"I wouldn't do that Jamilah.  You should know that.  I love that little girl."

"She's not little anymore."

"Yes, she's what?  Thirteen now?"

"Thirteen and a fat thing, too."

"Jamilah!"

"What?  I'm telling you the truth!  All she did the entire summer was eat and watch TV, and it didn't help that the medicine she was taking for cramps increased her appetite."

"I think she was making up for lost time.  Hogwarts doesn't have televisions."

"Such a shame," Jamilah said dryly.

Dumbledore chuckled.  "Besides, she'll probably lose it all playing Quidditch."

"Nia?  Play Quidditch?  You have a betta chance of gettin' Voldemort to surrender himself willingly than to get that girl in the air!"

"Oh?"

"Yes!  Nia is scared of flying!  You should've seen the tantrum she threw when she got on the plane last year."

"How did she get on it this year?"

"I had to use a Calming Charm on her.  I didn't have enough time to do the intensive one, so I'm sure she was still slightly antsy.  I don't get it; Isis herself loved the air . . ."

"Remember, Nia's a reincarnate.  She has fears and hopes separate from Isis.  But she'll have to learn to fly, Jamilah."

"I know this.  I just pity the one who teaches her."

"Why?"

"That girl's stubborn as a mule with an attitude to boot.  She'll be the one tellin' the _teacher_ he's wrong!  I don't know where she got it from."

"Neither do I," Dumbledore said sarcastically as he looked pointedly at her.

"I don't know what you talkin' 'bout, Granddad."

"You always have these memory lapses when I speak of a less than stellar attribute of yours, Jamilah."

"Again, I don't know what you talkin' 'bout."

Dumbledore chuckled.  "That's all right.  I do know what I'm talking about; that's what's most important."

Jamilah sucked her teeth.

"Don't feel bad, love.  Your mother was just as bad.  But my Asenath—she was the worst!"

A small grin formed on Jamilah's face.  "Grandma was stubborn?"

"Oh yes.  I remember when she was pregnant with your mother, and she _insisted_ on weeding the garden—without magic, mind you—we had to be very careful about using it.  Set didn't know we were there, and any magic used would have alerted him to our presence."

"How far along was she?"

"Seven months.  She was very round and very beautiful."  

"You let her weed the garden that far along?"

"No, I didn't.  But she wouldn't listen to me.  Oh no, she thought she was right all the time.  But then again, most of the time she _was._  But on _this_ particular occasion, I was the one who was right, and yet, she _still_ managed to prove me wrong . . .

  
  


"_I don't think it's a good idea for you to do this.  The doctor said you should take it easy!  With your age—"_

_"What _about_ my age, Albus?"_

_His wife stopped digging in the dirt and he saw her hand tense around her garden tool.  He heard the warning in her voice and did not want to make her angrier._

_"Dr. Paulsy said women who are pregnant shouldn't do strenuous work, love," he finished lamely._

_She smirked at him.  "Didn't it _take_ someone's strenuous work to get me in the state, Albus?"_

_He grinned smugly.  "I broke a sweat here and there . . ."_

_"I'm _referring_ to you!  All I had to do was lie there!"_

_Albus's mouth dropped open in shock.  "Asenath Dumbledore!  You take that back this instant!  I remember _many_ a night where you collapsed on top of me in exhaustion!"  Though her back was to him and her skin was too dark to show it, Albus knew she was blushing._

_"You are entirely too damn arrogant for your own good, Albus."_

_"And entirely right, I may add."_

_"Well, I guess that means I can't participate in any more of the strenuous work we did last night . . ."_

_The color drained from his face at her implication._

_"Dear _Merlin,_ no . . ."_

_"If I can't weed _this_ garden, you can't plant any more seeds in _mine . . ._" _

_Albus cleared his throat nervously.  "What does the good doctor know?  He can't get pregnant!"_

_"So will you let me weed my garden?"_

_"As long as I can taste your fruit, I will."_

_"Fruit usually grow on trees, Albus."_

_"You always have to be right, don't you, love?"_

_"No.  I don't _have_ to be.  It just usually turns out I am!"  _

_"We'll see who's right this time."_

_"About what, darling?"_

_"You weeding this garden.  You are heavy with my son, love!  I don't want you hurting yourself!"_

_"I won't hurt myself, Albus.  And the babe is a girl."_

_"Why do you keep saying that?  It's a boy, dear."_

_"I think I would know what sex this child is, considering she's been growing inside me for the past seven months."_

_Albus said nothing.  He went to her and began to help her weed._

_"All right there, old man.  Can't have you breaking a hip now!"_

_Albus glared at her.  "I'm only sixty years old, Asenath."_

_"Yes.  If you were Muggle, you'd be positively ancient!"_

_"Good thing I'm not a Muggle, isn't it?"_

_"A very good thing, or else I'd have to find a man my age who could keep up with me."_

_Asenath winked at him, and Albus frowned.  "Even forty year old men couldn't keep up with you.  You're a wild one, love."_

_"What are you implying?"_

_"I'm the only one man enough for you."_

_"Are you now?"_

_"You married me, didn't you?"_

_"Only in the tradition of my village.  According to the laws here, it's illegal for us to wed."_

_Albus scowled.  He'd almost hexed the man at the courthouse when he refused to give them a marriage license because of Asenath's color.  If she hadn't been there, Albus would've been in jail for murder._

_"That has to be among the most ridiculous laws I've ever heard."_

_"It's not different from the purebloods discriminating against half-bloods and Muggle-borns," Asenath reminded him._

_"Doesn't make it any less ridiculous."_

_"But we're not wanting anything, are we, love?  We have a nice house, a nice plot of land, and we're beginning to create a nice family.  I am content."_

_Albus smiled lovingly at his wife.  "So am I, love."  He kissed her temple softly.  _

_They worked in silence for a few moments when suddenly he heard her groan._

_"What?  What's wrong?"_

_"My back just went out.  I can't get up, Albus!"_

_He would've laughed if he didn't hear the genuine fear and panic in her voice.  He gathered her uprooted weeds with his and put them in his bag before lifting her in his arms.  She hugged his neck tightly and moaned in pain as he walked to their bedroom.  He pulled back the patchwork quilt and eased her gently onto the bed.  He turned to leave._

_"Albus, don't leave me!" she gasped.  _

_"Never, love.  I'm going to get the potion that you use on me.  It will make the pain go away."_

_"Is it safe for the baby?"_

_"Do you trust me, love?"_

_"I trust you with my life!"_

_"I will be back shortly."  He was lucky he brewed the potion earlier that week.  His work at the lumber mill was backbreaking.  Often Asenath would massage his tender muscles after a hard day's work.  It was one of the most relaxing and serene feelings he'd ever have.  Albus quickly located the vial and brought it to the room.  Asenath had her eyes closed, and a wince marred her features.  His heart broke at seeing her in so much pain._

_"I'm here, darling.  Take off your dress, so I can rub your back."  Asenath gasped as she lifted her back from the bed.  Albus placed the vial down and quickly went to her side.  He helped her sit up and take off her clothes.  Albus felt the familiar tightening in his groin at the sight of her naked form, but her distress cooled his ardor somewhat._

_"Lay on your side, love, so I can get to your back."_

_She sucked in a breath of pain as she made the movement, and his heart cracked even more._

_"You know I don't like to see you in pain, love."  He poured the potion in his hand and began to rub it into her lower back gently._

_She hissed in pain.  "In two more months, I'm going to be in even more pain that this."_

_"I know.  I'll be there for you then as I am now."_

_"I know, darling."_

_He continued to administer his ministrations as they drifted into silence.  Her directions for his hands and the occasional sound of pain punctured it.  When he felt her body relax, he knew her pain was gone, but he didn't stop his caresses._

_"Do you regret this?"_

_"Regret what, dear?"_

_"Being pregnant?  Having this baby?"_

_She made to roll onto her back, and he let her, lifting his hands long enough for her to complete the motion.  He began to stroke her swollen belly._

_"Dear Albus, of course not!  We've been trying since we were _married_ to have this babe.  Now that she's here, I am so happy, love."_

_"But the doctor said it will be a complicated pregnancy and birth.  You or the baby could die . . ."_

_"Like you said, the good doctor can't have babies.  Personally I think we should've consulted the voodoo doctor but _nooo. . ._ you wanted the Muggle doctor."_

_"The voodoo doctor doesn't make house calls, love.  It's dangerous for you to leave the house.  Those men with sheets could find where we live and hurt you.  And besides, you're so beautiful you're bound to find a younger man and run off with him," he teased._

_Asenath snorted.  "Oh please!  I can barely walk let alone run.  Now if he puts me on a white horse, there's no stopping me . . ."_

_Albus tickled her sides, and she squealed with delight.  His eyes drifted to her breasts as they jiggled with her movements._

_His crotch reacted accordingly._

_"Are you looking at my bosom, Albus?"  There was a tease in her voice, and he grinned, his eyes never leaving her chest._

_"Your breasts are lovely, dear, just like the rest of you.  The very sweetest of bonbons, they are."_

_She snorted again.  "I'm hardly lovely now, Albus.  I'll wager you used an Expanding Charm to fit me in this cottage since I'm now as big as it is."_

_He shook his head and looked at her adoringly.  "You're the most beautiful creature to walk this earth, especially so since you carry my child.  _My child . . ._"  His voice drifted into silence as he placed a tender kiss upon her protruding belly button.  Her stomach dipped at the contact of his lips on her skin, and he heard her sigh._

_"I feel his heart beating beneath your flesh.  It's so surreal, love."_

_He felt her fingers comb through his hair.  _

_"I wonder what she will look like?" she mused._

_"Dark skin with a shock of bright red hair, after me, of course," he said on a laugh.  Her stomach shook with her laughter, and he kissed it lovingly._

_"Or maybe pale skin, my amber eyes, but with your twinkle in them?"_

_"I hope he looks like you.  I wouldn't wish my child to come out as foul looking as I did."_

_"Shut your mouth, Albus Dumbledore.  You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen!"_

_"Oh _stop . . ._" he said exaggeratedly, looking at her with his chin on her belly.  He batted his eyelashes coquettishly, and Asenath laughed._

_"No, really!  You don't look a day over thirty.  I'm sure you have women throwing themselves at you every time you go to the lumber mill."_

_"Jealous, love?"_

_"It would be easier for you to go with them," she said sadly._

_He picked up her hands and kissed the backs of them.  "I don't want easy.  I want you.  I _have_ you.  And I aim to _keep_ you—till I die, and even beyond."  His hands caressed her abdomen in gentle strokes before his hands drifted higher to her chest.  He cupped her breasts in his palms, testing the weight of them.  They spilled out of his hands, having grown larger since they began to fill with milk.  He flicked his thumbs over her nipples, and she moaned._

_"All-_boos . . ._" she groaned.  He moved between her legs and drew himself over her body, allowing his tongue to flick her nipples briefly before getting face to face with her._

_"I'm ready to plant my seed in your garden," he said seductively._

_"Your last crop hasn't been harvested yet, love.  I'm afraid you have two more months to wait."_

_"That didn't stop you from weeding the garden outside!"_

_"It was necessary if we wanted to _eat_ that the garden be weeded, so the plants could grow properly."_

_"Fine.  Can _I _do some weeding, then?"_

_"ALBUS!"_

_He gave a bark of laughter and kissed her soundly. It was a long, thorough kiss where both became lost in the other.  He pulled away briefly._

_"What's wrong?" she asked, slightly disappointed his mouth left hers._

_He grinned.  "Told you, you shouldn't do any weeding today."_

_"Poppycock."_

_"No!  I was right!  The doctor warned you, _I _warned you, and what happened?  You hurt your back.  Now you're probably bedridden for the next month."_

_Asenath frowned, but then a grin appeared.  "But imagine, darling.  If I didn't work on _that_ garden, when would you have had the opportunity today to work on _this _one?"_

_There was a space of silence before he cackled madly.  "Oh, you saucy woman!  Come here, you!"_

He suddenly became aware of the snapping fingers in front of his face, and he jerked with alertness.

"Hi, Grandpa!  Nice to see you've rejoined the land of the living!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat as he turned his attention back on his granddaughter.

"Jamilah—"

"I get the feeling I _really_ don't want to know where you were just then, so I ain't gonna ask," she interrupted.

Dumbledore chuckled.  "Smart girl."

"Your blood _does_ flow through me . . ."

He smiled gently at her and put his hand across the table.  She grasped it and squeezed.

"You and Nia are the only people left to carry on my Asenath's dreams and legacy.  We have to win.  This was her dying wish to me, and I'll be dead in my grave before surrendering Asenath's heir!"

Jamilah covered his hand with hers.  "We will find a way to do this without it coming to that.  We have to.  Nia's all I have left."

"You have me, also, love."

She gave a small smile.  "Yes, I do.  I just miss them, Grandpa.  I miss Malika so much.  It was so quiet in the house while Nia was at school."

"A little birdie told me a Mr. Wigam had been by to call on you many a time . . ."

Jamilah's eyes widened then narrowed.  "Felicia talks too damn much," she muttered.

"Oh, come now, darling.  It's been almost twenty years since Frank died.  You have so much more of your life to live yet.  Besides, you don't look a day over thirty-five. . ."

Jamilah snorted.  "Grandpa, while I may live to be over a hundred, very few men around here could make the same claim . . ."

"You should move to England.  The wizarding population is vast, and you're bound to find someone who's worthy of you."

"Sounds like you already have someone in mind," she said dryly.

"Well, Alastor _has_ been asking much about you recently . . ."  

Jamilah glared at him.  "Will you ever _quit_?  Mad Eye don't care 'bout nothin' but the Dark Arts."

"But you—"

"Don't go there, Granddad."

His twinkling eyes peered at her over his half-moon glasses in amusement.  She sucked her teeth and crossed her arms at her chest.

"But seriously.  Come to Hogwarts.  Be the DADA professor."

She scoffed.  "Ain't that job jinxed?"

"_Jamilah!_"

She snorted.  "Oh _no,_ Granddad.  Malika _never_ had the same DADA professor when she went there, and apparently that trend has stayed constant even till _now._  And you want _me_ to go teach it?  I'm liable not to come back . . ."

"The problem was we never had a competent professor in the position, or if we did, _extenuating_ circumstances caused the person to leave."

"What if these _extenuating_ circumstances occurred again _this_ year, hmm?  Nia needs someone she can trust.  I'm all that girl's got right now."

"She has Severus, and Caleb, and Elle, and Angelina . . ."

"She hardly _knows_ them—Severus included.  Does she know he works for Voldemort?"

"Well, no . . ."

"And _how_ do you think she'll react when she does?  She's already suffered one of the greatest betrayals in her life; finding out about Severus' other job will _not_ be a good thing."

"This is what I know.  But you're very necessary to the Cause."

"But what about my house?  Ain't nobody here but me!"

"I will place a charm on it.  No one will be the wiser you're not here."

"I'm old, Granddad.  I don't have the patience to be teachin' kids that age.  I don't even know the curriculum!"

"That's a lie, and you know it.  You all but home-schooled Nia from the age of nine till last year!  She was practically doing fourth year level work in DADA."

"So?"

"So!  You can do it."

"There are only two weeks left before the school year begins, Granddad."

"Crash course."

She was silent for a moment.  "What is the _real_ reason you want me there?"

"Remember what I said about the new target?"

"Yes, but you also said it's not Nia . . ."

"While that is true, your services will be needed."

Jamilah's eyes grew wide.  "_Those_ services?  But those are for those with ancient magic, like Nia and Malika . . ."

He gazed at her, his blue eyes void of their familiar twinkle.  "Miss Weasley has started to dream of her past life—her life as Nephthys.  _She_ is the Dark Lord's next target."


	6. Six

_Six_

"I don't think I'm supposed to be here . . ."

She looked around the dark alleyway with a sense of foreboding.  The place gave her the creeps—quite literally.  She pulled her robe closer to her as she walked backwards slowly.  There were cobwebs everywhere and not a soul in sight—that was probably the thing that most unnerved her.  There was a loud thud behind her, and she jumped, whirling around only to see a large cloud of gray dust billowing from a windowsill.

"Did Angie tell me to turn right?  I _know_ she still can't be mad at me for taking a picture of her and Fred playing strip poker!  How was _I_ supposed to know the pictures moved . . .?"  

Angelina gave her money to buy her schoolbooks from Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley.  It was apparent to Nia Angelina forgot she'd never _been_ to Diagon Alley.  

_Then again, if your boyfriend's tongue was down your throat, it would be hard to concentrate much on anything._

There was another thud, and this time bats screeched from their hiding place.  She gasped loudly and shrieked.  Her heart was beating a wild, rapid cadence in her chest, and she began to tremble.

She wanted out and now.

"Who cares about buying books?  What's the point of having a library at Hogwarts if we have to buy them here?"

She began to walk down the abandoned cobblestone street when she reached an impasse.

She didn't know which one would lead her out of this dark place.

"Hmm . . . eeny meeny miny moe . . ."  Nia rolled her eyes and decided to go left, praying it was the right choice.  She looked around erratically, hoping to find a familiar landmark that would let her know she was going the right way.

She heard the creak of a door opening, and her pace quickened.  She reached into her robes and felt for her mother's wand, gripping it tightly when she found it.  Nia felt the eerie sensation of eyes on her, and she grew even more agitated.  It was all she could do not to break out in a full run.  She would not show her fear, even if she was ready to wet her pants.

"Nia?"

She started and gasped again. A trickle went down her shaky legs, and she walked even faster.  She was all but ready to cry.

"Wait!  Little One!  Slow down!"

She stopped and wheeled around.  "Draco?"

He obviously heard the tremble in her voice, and he ran towards her.  "What are you doing here?  Are you all right?"

She was irrationally angry with him.  "Do I look all right to you?" she snapped.  She saw what little color he had drain from his face at the harshness of her voice, and her nerves wore out.  "I was so scared . . ."

Draco pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly as he whispered words of comfort.

"What are you doing on Knockturn Alley anyway?"

"Oh good Lord, I'm not in Diagon Alley anymore . . ."

"No.  You haven't been for quite a while, actually.  What where you trying to find?"

"Flourish and Blotts," she sobbed.

"You must've made a wrong turn.  You were supposed to keep straight . . ."

"I'm such an idiot!"

"Have you ever been to Diagon Alley?"

"No."

"Then it's not your fault.  You got lost, that's all."

"Can we get out of here?  I don't like this place at all."

"Sure, love.  C'mon.  Off we go."  She grabbed his hand as if it were a lifeline as he led them out of Knockturn Alley.

The walk to Diagon Alley was quiet except for Nia performing a basic cleaning spell to clear her "accident."  Finally, and much to Nia's relief, they were back at Diagon Alley.

Nia felt she could trust herself to speak again.  "What were you doing there?"

Draco snorted.  "My father has a Portkey that leads directly to one of the shops there.  It's a fascinating alley, if I do say so myself, but then again I was raised around it . . ."

"You came all by yourself?"

He scoffed at the question.  "What do you mean 'all by myself'?  I'm sixteen years old; I'm a man now!"

Nia would've snorted, but she realized he was her only guide through the alley so she kept her mouth shut.

"Okay, Mr. Man, mind taking me to Flourish and Blotts now?"

He grinned at her and squeezed her hand in compliance.  "How was your summer, love?"

"Boring."

"That's all?"

"Hmm . . . yes.  Boring about covers it."

"Huh.  Seem to have gained a little weight."

"Shut it."

"I'm just pointing out what's different about you.  You're still short, though."

"You're still a punk, too."

"Now if I let go of your hand, you could get lost again.  We wouldn't want you to end up back at Knockturn, now would we?"

"You wouldn't . . ."

"I will do whatever pleases me."

"Don't you love me, anymore?" she pouted.

Draco merely raised an eyebrow at her.  "I should ask you that.  You're the one who called me a punk!"

"You called me fat!"

"No I didn't.  All I said was you gained some weight . . ."

"With the implication I'm obese!"

He frowned.  "Is it that time of the month?"

Nia narrowed her eyes.  "Watch your mouth, Malfoy."

"I'll take that as a yes . . ." he muttered.

"Why is it a girl can't be in a bad mood without biology being the reason?  I'm in a crappy mood!  That's it!"

"Oh look!  We're here . . ."

There were books everywhere, and it seemed there were as many people as books in this small shop.  She and Draco were pressed tightly against each other as families shopped in the crowded space.  Her eyes drifted to the second level and saw it as crowded as the first.  There were books flying through the air and people on roller ladders as they found the appropriate texts.

"This place is a madhouse!" she whispered.

Draco snorted.  "This is nothing.  You should've seen it when Lockhart was here for a book signing.  It was wall to wall with estrogen.  Rather suffocating, really."  

"Who is Lockhart?  Angie mentioned him in passing."

Draco scowled.  "A great big fraud was what he was.  Of course _Potter_ figured that out."

"Harry?"

He looked at her sharply.  "First name basis, is it?"

"Don't start with me, Draco . . ."

"What's there to start?  Seems as though something _else_ changed over the summer . . ."

_No.  This change started _way_ before term ended._

Throughout their time researching ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses, Nia's ambiguous feelings to the Boy Who Lived formed into so something more concrete, more easily defined.

Harry Potter got on her nerves.  

He didn't listen to reason, was rash, stubborn, arrogant, moody—and he did this really cute thing with his nose when he was reading . . .

_No!  You can' think about that now!_

She risked a glance and found Draco smirking at her.

_Punk._

"Let's just hope you don't end up as bad as Ginger."

"Ginny?  What did she do?"

He chuckled.  "She sent Potty this _ridiculous_ singing dwarf who sang a Valentine to him during my second year.  Something about 'his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad . . .'  It was rather awful."

"And yet you're the one who remembers it."  

"Ginny!" Nia squealed and ran to give the older girl a hug.  Ginny laughed good-naturedly as she embraced her, both swaying from the force of it.

"Hello, Nia!  Long time, no see!"

"I'll say!  How was your summer?"

Ginny looked at Draco and smirked before she answered.  "_Interesting._"

"Oh?  How so?"  Nia heard the edge in his voice, and she grinned.  

"Oh, don't worry, Dragon.  It concerns you."

"Does it, now?"

"Very much so."

Draco looked around the busy establishment.  "Care to talk about it in a less _crowded_ area?"

"Lead the way."

"But!  But—but—grrr!" Nia sputtered as the couple left the bookstore.

"Once again left alone because _some people_ want to do some hanky panky," she muttered and shook her head.  She looked around and sighed.  

This was going to be a long day.

Nia shrugged her shoulders defeated and began to squeeze through the throngs of people.  She pulled out her book list and glared at it:

_Numerology and Gramatica  
The Monster Book Of Monsters_ (Year Three)  
_Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky  
_Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks_  
_Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming  
Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul  
Sites of Historical Sorcery  
Modern Magical History  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
Ancient Runes Made Easy  
Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger   
_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore  
_The Standard Book of Spells_ (Year Three) by Miranda Goshawk  
_Powers You Never Knew You Had and What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up_  
_The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_  
_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

She didn't have any idea where to look.

"When in doubt, ask somebody . . ."  Nia tapped the nearest person to her.  "Excuse me, I was wondering . . ."

"Roberts."

Nia couldn't control her yelp, and his grin grew even more menacing.

"I'm sorr—"

"Get your _filthy_ little Mudblood hands off me, you fat nig—"

"You better shut your mouth before I shut it for you, Crabbe."

She snapped her attention from Crabbe to the owner of the other voice.

_Goyle!_

Crabbe sneered.  "What's it to you?  Just because Malfoy likes her doesn't mean _we_ have to!  She's a Mudblood, for Merlin's sake!"

"She hasn't bothered you—not once!  Let her alone!" Goyle warned and stepped protectively in front of her.

"I can't believe you'd want to hang out with a fat monkey like _her!"  _

"_Who_ are you calling a monkey, you great big tub 'o lard!" Nia exclaimed.  She tried to get around Goyle, but he wouldn't let her.

"Unlike you, _I_ am capable of independent thought; I can hang out with whom I damn well please."

"There's no talking to you—either you or Malfoy.  My father was right—the Malfoy name will become a disgrace all because of that sissy Draco!"

Nia saw red, and she went around Goyle to get to Crabbe.  She shoved him hard.  

"_Leave!"_  

Suddenly Crabbe was airborne and didn't land until he was on the other side of the store.  Nia looked on in horror at the sight as shrieks and screams sounded from other patrons.

"I need to get outta here . . ." she said hurriedly.

"Come on!  This way!"  

Goyle grabbed her hand and led her quickly out of the bookstore.  He didn't stop walking until they reached the fork where Knockturn met Diagon.

"There, the shop at the corner," she said breathlessly.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?  I dunno if that's a good idea . . ."

"My sister's in there!  C'mon!"  It was her turn to do the leading, and she walked them inside.  She saw the twins attending to customers, and she sighed in relief.  Nia steered them to the backroom where the supplies were kept.  Angelina was there taking inventory.

"Cheerio, Nia!  Did everything work out all right?"

The ridiculousness of the question prompted Nia into a fit of hysterical giggles.

"What's wrong with her?  What did you do, Goyle?" Angelina asked.

Goyle threw up his hands in surrender.  "I didn't do anything!  _She's_ the one who sent Crabbe flying!"

"_What?"_

"I said she—"

"Wait a minute," Angelina said.   She pointed her wand at Nia.  "_Silencio!"_

Nia was surprised, yet relieved, that her giggles were muted.  She gave a thumbs-up sign.

"All right, start from the beginning," Angelina ordered Goyle.

He sighed heavily.  "So there's this bloke in our House, Crabbe—"

"Oh yeah, he hit Potter with a Bludger after the Gryffindor/Slytherin match.  Arsehole.  Continue . . ."

Goyle visibly gulped.  "Ah . . . okay . . . anyway, he was about to call her something really foul—"

"What was he about to call her?"  Angelina's eyes narrowed threateningly, and even Nia was scared.  

"Uh—it's not my place to say."

"I asked you a question.  Answer it."

Goyle looked to Nia for help, but she merely shrugged.

"He—he—he was about to call her a nig—"

"WHERE IS HE?!  _I'LL SHOW HIM A NIG—_" 

"What's all the ruckus, love?" Fred asked, concern lacing his voice.  "You're scaring the customers!"

"Some wanker was about to call my sister something _very _foul!"

"Andamonkey," Goyle said quickly in a soft tone.  

Fred's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.  Angelina looked ready to shed some blood.

"Move out of my way, Fred.  I have a little Slytherin to kill . . ."

"After what Nia did, I'd be surprised if he wasn't dead already!"

"What did you _do?_  What did you _say?_" Angelina asked her.

Nia began to speak and realized no sound came out.  She pointed to her mouth.

Angelina huffed and rolled her eyes.  "_Finite Incantatum!"_

Nia moved her jaw before she spoke.  "I told him to leave, and I shoved him.  I don't know how he got airborne like he did."

Goyle looked at her suspiciously and shook his head.  "No, you didn't.  You said something in a foreign language, and gold sparks left your palms as you pushed him.  I've never seen anything like it!"  

"What?"

_I don't remember any of that happening . . ._

"Is this true, Nia?"

"Don't you need a wand to do magic?" she asked lamely.

Angelina shook her head.  "Not if you feel emotion great enough.  I take it Crabbe calling you all those names sent you over the edge."

"Well I _do _know I can't go back in there, and I still need to get my books!"

"I'll get them for you, Nia," Fred offered.  

"Thank you, Fred," Angelina said, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Am I going to be in trouble for this?" Nia asked softly.

Angelina looked at her sadly and came to sit next to her.  She ran a comforting hand through Nia's hair.  "I don't know, love.  Did anyone see you?"

Goyle shrugged.  "It was so crowded in there it's possible no one else but me saw what she did, though it was hard to miss a flying Crabbe . . ."

"I wish I could've been there.  I would've loved to see it!" Fred said with a grin.  Nia saw his face suddenly pale and his eyes widen.  
_Oh no!_

"Nia Roberts?  Is there a Nia Roberts here?"

Nia immediately tensed at the deep, hard sound of the man's voice.

"What's this about?" Angelina asked as she stood.  Nia made to get up, but Angelina stayed her.

"She's to come with me," the man said.

"Why?"

The man ignored Angelina's question and crouched down before Nia.  She was trembling madly, very close to crying again.

"Nia?"

She nodded slowly.

"I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror.  It would be in your best interest to come with me—"  

"But she didn't do anything on purpose!" Angelina insisted.  Kingsley looked at her sharply, and she became quiet.

"As I said, it would be in your best interest to come with me.  Please . . ."

Nia gripped the edge of her seat tightly.  "Where am I going?"

"With me.  I can't tell you anymore than that."

Her eyes flitted to Angelina who shrugged helplessly.

"Am I in trouble?" Nia asked softly.

Kingsley exhaled a slow breath.  "It would best if we left now; all of your questions will be answered when we get there."

"Well, what do I tell my parents when I go home and they discover she's not with me?" Angelina asked angrily.

Kinglsey sighed an exasperated sigh.  "Caleb and Elle already know.  They were alerted before I even got here.  Come with me, Nia.  No one will hurt you."

"But—"

"Angel, love, it's best if your sister goes with Kingsley.  She's in good hands," Fred insisted.  The worry never left Angelina's face, but it did relax as Fred placed a soft kiss on her temple.

"I'm ready," Nia proclaimed with a bravery she didn't feel.  Kingsley smiled kindly at her and offered a hand.  Nia eyed it wearily before putting hers in it, feeling strangely comforted as his large hand surrounded hers.  He led them to a broom in the corner of the storage room.

"Be warned, you'll feel a tugging sensation at your navel.  It's perfectly natural, I assure you.  I'll be there shortly," he told her.  Nia looked at him confused, and he smiled slightly.  "Touch the handle, Nia."

She looked skeptical but did as she was told.

"Tug" was an understatement.

Nia was all but jerked into the broom handle and flung through space like a rag doll before landing heavily on a black chaise lounge in an unfamiliar room.

_Where am I?_

"WOOF!"

"AAAAH!"

Nia jumped so quickly she fell off the lounge into a heap on the floor.  Suddenly a large, black dog bounded into her field of vision, its teeth bared threateningly.

_Today is just _not_ my day!_

Upon seeing her, the dog calmed, its lips closing over his teeth, and his head cocked to the side.  Her head matched its action.

They were sizing each other up.

Apparently thinking her a non-threat, the dog began to walk closer to her in a nonchalant fashion.  Nia, not entirely composed at the sight of a dog as big as she was, backed away until her back hit the foot of the lounge. 

She was cornered. 

The dog seemed to notice her distress and howled, almost as if it here telling her it would not harm her.  Nia's body relaxed, but she kept a wary eye on him.  The dog began to walk towards her again until she could feel his breath against the back of her hand.

He lapped at it.

Nia jumped at the unexpected action, and she drew her hand away.  The dog looked hurt.

"I'm sorry," Nia said and offered her hand again.  The dog put its nose to it before burrowing its head in her palm.

"Good boy . . . you're a nice doggie . . ."

The dog growled his thanks low in his throat.  Suddenly he laid his head in her lap, and she continued to pet him.

"I would really like to know where I am and why I'm here.  That Kingsley guy said he'd be here shortly . . ."

The dog's black eyes looked at her in confusion.

"Of course you wouldn't know anything; you're just a dog . . ."

"Truer words were never spoken, love."

Nia gasped both at the unexpected voice and the dog's sudden hostility to the visitor.  He bounded up and growled, this time primed and ready to fight.  

"Oh _do _shut up _Snuffles . . ._ I'm here to talk to my _daughter._"

Snuffles bared his teeth even more.

"Come here, Snuffles!  Come here!" beckoned another voice.  Snuffles snapped at the first visitor before bounding over to the second.

"Kingsley has something for you in the sitting room," the older voice said.  Snuffles inclined his head at Nia before leaving.

"Grandpa Albus!  Daddy!"  Nia rose and ran to her father.  Snape hugged her tightly and caressed her head.

"It's all right, Little One.  Everything will be okay," Snape said gently.

"Quite a day you've had, Nia.  Getting lost on Knockturn Alley, shoving a boy all the way across the room, befriending a dog . . . I thought you didn't like dogs," Dumbledore said with a hint of amusement.

"That one didn't seem too bad," Nia sniffled.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Snape muttered.

There was an indignant bark from the other room.

"_Damn him . . ._" Snape drawled, and Nia giggled.

"Language, dear boy; Nia is but a child."

Nia would've glared at Dumbledore if she wasn't so content in her father's embrace.

"She's hardly a child, Headmaster, as she demonstrated today."

A thought occurred to Nia.  While she was sure Angelina and Goyle recounted the events in Flourish and Blotts, they knew nothing of her getting lost.  "How did you know about Knockturn Alley?" she asked Dumbledore. 

His eyes twinkled, and he winked.  "I have my ways . . ."

Nia looked at Snape, and he shook his head.  "Don't ask.  Whatever you do, _don't ask!_"

"What wa—"

Snape put his hand over her mouth, and she began to laugh.  There was another bark, but this one was clearly of approval.  Snape looked at her pointedly before glaring at the wall Snuffles was behind.  Even Dumbledore chuckled.

"Glad to be the source of your entertainment," Snape scowled.

"Oh dear boy, you need to, as Muggle teens say, 'lighten up,'" Dumbledore insisted.

"I will do that once the war is over."

"War?" Nia asked, alarmed.

The mood turned serious, and Snape walked her to the lounge.  Dumbledore sat in an easy chair perpendicular to them and put his hands in his familiar steeple.

Severus exhaled heavily.  "You read Potter's expose in _The Quibbler,_ correct?"

Nia nodded as if that was a stupid question.  "Who didn't?"

"Cornelius Fudge?" Dumbledore offered sarcastically.  The corners of Snape's mouth quirked.

"Yes, well, there is a possibility another war is brewing . . ."

"Will Hogwarts close?" Nia asked.

"That is not the intention.  The best way to fight the dark forces is to train the students—here.  Hogwarts is now more important that ever," Dumbledore replied.

"Right, but that still doesn't explain why I'm here.  School doesn't begin for another week!"

"You exhibited a formidable display of magic today, Nia," Snape began.

"Am I in trouble?"

"No, Little One.  In fact, the Improper Use of Magic Office didn't even register what you did."

"They didn't?"

"No."

She was silent for a moment.  "Why?"

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged glances.  "Tell us everything that happened, love," Dumbledore asked kindly yet seriously.

"Uh, Crabbe was saying those—those th-things, to me, and . . . I just saw red—literally.  Then I told him to leave, and I shoved him.  Next thing I knew, he was flying through the air.  I hope he broke a hip—"

"Nia!" Snape warned quietly.

"I'm not takin' it back.  He deserved it, even if I _didn't_ meant to do it."  

"If term had started, I would've awarded you twenty points for that," Dumbledore said.  His face showed his anger, and Nia felt a chill go down her back.

"Grandpa Albus?"

"He had no right to call you that.  _No right!_"

"But—"

"There is one thing I do not tolerate, Nia, and that is that word.  It's just as bad as Mudblood, if not worse, and I will _not_ tolerate my great-great granddaughter being called such a thing."

"But Grandpa—"

He was too far gone to hear her.  "I remember those men, those men surrounding my Asenath, taunting and beating her body as she screamed with the pains of her labor . . ."  

"Headmaster!"

A green aura surrounded Dumbledore.  He was halfway out of his chair, clearly in a trance.  The arms of the chair had the indentations of his fingers from where he gripped so tightly.

"Albus, calm down.  Calm down, Albus," Snape cooed.  Dumbledore closed his eyes and began to tremble before finally sitting in his seat again.

"I am sorry, Nia.  I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right, Grandpa Albus, I understand . . ."

Snape looked at Dumbledore with concern.  "Are you well, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore nodded.  "I apologize for my lack of control.  Continue."

Snape hesitated a moment before doing so.  "When you said those words, Nia, were you speaking English?"

She remembered what Goyle told her earlier, and she shrugged.  "I thought I was, but apparently I wasn't . . ."

"Apparently?"

"Goyle said I was speaking in a foreign language, and gold sparks came from my palms.  I didn't notice any of this."

"Gold sparks?" Snape asked, looking worriedly at Dumbledore.

"Dear Heavens above, that means—"

The door opening interrupted Dumbledore.

"Grandma?" Nia asked, shocked.

"Kingsley just told me what happened," Jamilah said as if she didn't hear Nia.

"_Now_ do you understand why I asked you here?" Dumbledore asked.

Jamilah nodded and turned her attention to Nia.

"You, my dear, have some training to do . . ."


	7. Seven

_Seven_

There was something about the new DADA professor that was oddly familiar to him.  He couldn't put his finger on it, but he could _swear_ he'd seen her somewhere before . . .

". . . And now, we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, all the way from the United States.  I welcome Professor Roberts to the teaching staff at Hogwarts . . ."

For some unknown reason, his eyes went immediately to the Slytherin table.   They first spotted an injured Crabbe.  He'd broken his leg just so magic couldn't repair the damage, so it had to heal the Muggle way.

He smirked at the irony of the situation.  _I'll bet his parents _loved_ that diagnosis . . ._

He moved on from Crabbe to see Goyle looking very confusedly at the Head Table.

_What else is new?  I'll bet his own _reflection_ confuses him!_

He chuckled to himself and moved on to the next person.

Malfoy.

His lip curled in disgust, looking at the blonde-haired boy.

_First his father takes my godfather away, then _he_ has the _nerve_ to take Ginny's heart as well! _

_Prick._

Harry remembered last year when Ron asked him if he had feelings for Ginny.  He'd answered Ginny was like a sister to him.

He'd lied through his teeth.  

He was attracted to the youngest Weasley as he'd never been attracted to anyone, but she didn't fancy him like that.

Not anymore.

_Once again, Potter, your timing reeks!_

Why did it take him so long to realize what was staring him in the face?  Talk about being slow on the uptake . . .

He groaned.

"All right there, mate?" Ron asked.

"I've been better . . ."

"We all have," Ron said sadly.  He clapped Harry's shoulder and squeezed it.  "At least the new DADA professor isn't Umbridge!"

"What if she's worse?" Harry moaned.

"The only way it could be worse is if You-Know-Who taught the class himself!"

"That would be counterproductive, wouldn't it?"

"Pretty much."  

"She looks familiar somehow," Hermione mused.  She was sitting in front of Harry, and Ginny was in front of Ron.

"Like Nia," Ginny said matter-of-factly.

_Click._

"Are they related?" Ron asked.

"Are you kidding me?  It's as if Professor Roberts spat Nia out!  Of _course, _they're related!  She's Nia grandmother!" Ginny said, exasperated. 

Harry looked at the Slytherin table and saw a scowling Nia glare at her plate.  Sure enough, the new DADA professor at the Head Table could pass for an older version of the third year sitting beside Malfoy.

He suddenly felt a sting of animosity against her.

At least she _had_ a grandmother.

"What's this?  Cater to Slytherins Part II?  Bad enough we had that horror Umbridge last year!  Perhaps this is Dumbledore's new plan to keep the Slytherins from following Voldemort?"

Both Hermione and Ginny glared at him, and he felt his cheeks heat with shame.

"Oi!  You may be on to something there, Harry!  Too bad it's not going to work.  Ferret Boy is as much of a tosser as he was before . . ."

"Shut up!  Both of you!" Ginny exclaimed.

Ron frowned.  "Are you _defending_ that git?!"

Ginny's face turned red—from anger or embarrassment, Harry didn't know.  "Did it ever occur to you _maybe_ we should trust Dumbledore's decisions?"

Ron snorted.  "Every single professor for DADA, except for Lupin, has been a _nightmare!_  No fewer than THREE of the five we've had have tried to kill or harm Harry at some point or another—_four_ if you count that prat Lockhart—"

"_Ron . . ._" Hermione warned.

Ron merely rolled his eyes.  "What's to say this 'Professor Roberts' isn't out to get him, too?  Hell, _she's_ Roberts's _grandmother!  Roberts_ is best friends with _Malfoy! _ Am I the only one seeing the problem here?"

"You do have a point, Ron . . ." Harry considered aloud.

Ginny huffed.  "This is ridiculous.  Whether we want to admit it or not, _Malfoy_ is _not_ a _Death Eater!_  Since when are the sins of the father the sins of the son?"  

"Since a Malfoy beget a Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.  "You've been reading my dictionary again, haven't you, Ron?"  

"A fascinating book, I must say . . ."

She pursed her lips.  "I guess anything beats that awful _Quidditch Through the Ages . . ._"

Ron looked indignant.  "That is _blasphemy!_  You will _not_ besmirch that book!"  

"Two more dictionary words, Ron!  You're on a roll . . ."

Ron began to sputter, and Harry laughed.  They might've been a couple, but they were still Ron and Hermione.

"Well, I'd appreciate if you'd keep your insults of _my_ friend to a minimum," Ginny muttered.

"Malfoy?"  The edge was back in Ron's voice.

"Nia."

"But she—"

"_She_ is the reason why Crabbe's leg is busted, or did you forget the story Fred told us?"

Harry looked at the girl in question again.  Nia—the girl who was best friends with evil's spawn—attacked one of the spawn's lackey; apparently she hit the spawn himself at one point.  Nia—the girl who'd been his research partner during Easter holiday last school year to help him figure out why he dreamed of a lion-headed god who looked oddly like him.  Nia—the girl who had these cute little dimples that would show whenever she laughed particularly hard.

He frowned.

_Where the hell did _that_ come from?_

In a word, Nia Roberts was an enigma.

"Oi, Harry!  Gonna eat?"

"Wha?  Oh.  Yeah," he said, and he slowly picked up his fork. 

He stared at the food.

"Have you developed a new method of eating we common folk don't know about?" Ginny teased.

Hermione laughed at the quip, and Harry felt the corners of his mouth lift.

"I would hardly call you common, Ginny."

Ginny snapped her mouth shut, and her face colored again.  Harry was sure it wasn't from anger.  

"Oh, but me and Hermione you would?  I see how it is!" Ron said with mock annoyance.

"Oh, sod off, you prat!" he laughed.

The remainder of dinner passed by with revelry, and Harry's dark mood drifted away.

Until it was time to go upstairs.

Ron, Hermione, and now Ginny left to lead the first years to the tower, and he was suddenly alone, despite being surrounded by a throng of people.

_Alone . . . seems that's all I'll ever be . . ._

Suddenly a body collided very heavily with his.

"Doesn't feel too good to be shoved, now does it?" a voice drawled.  Laughter could be heard as the students left the hall—none of whom offered to help them.

"Flippin' punk!  Would if I could hex the bejesus outta him," the body on top of him muttered as it rose from him.  

Harry was relieved he could breathe again.

"So sorry about that.  Here, let me help you up . . ."

His eyes locked to her amber ones as he put his hand in hers.

An electric shock passed through them, and she let go of his hand in a hurry.  He fell flat on his behind.

"_Sorry!_  Static . . ."  She shook her hand and offered it to him again.

"No, thanks, I got it!" Harry said as he scrambled to his feet.

"All right, never say a Slytherin didn't help a Gryffindor," she warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She rolled her eyes.  "Whateva, man.  See you around."  

He watched her walk out the Great Hall.  For some reason, he didn't want her to leave just yet.  There were a few things he needed to understand first.  Harry walked quickly into the corridor and caught up with her.

"Is Professor Roberts really your grandmother?"

She stopped and turned to him.  "What's it to you?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Nia narrowed her eyes at him.  "If you think I _suggested_ her to teach here, then you're wrong.  This is between her and Gra—I mean, Professor Dumbledore."

Harry caught her slip of the tongue and wondered what she meant.  "You do realize your best friend's father killed my godfather, don't you?" he sneered.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  "You do realize my best friend is dating _your_ crush, don't you?"  

Harry felt his ire rise.  "I'll just bet you and he brewed some kind of potion to make her date the ferret!"  

"Or _maybe_, just maybe, Ginny used her own brain _for once_ and decided for _herself_ she'd _rather_ be with Draco than with you.  You may be the Boy Who Lived, but you're still just a boy."  

She might as well have slapped him, so forceful were the words.

"Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?!"

"I can talk to you however I please!"

"No, you can't!  You Slytherins think the world revolves around you . . . there's a war going on, for Merlin's sake!"

"Don't get all high and mighty on me!  _You're_ the one who started this argument in the _first_ place.  I bet you think I'm going to tell Draco, so he can start taunting you, and that way you won't feel guilty if you hex him or something.  You sure you're not supposed to be in Slytherin, Potter?"

His blood turned to ice at the question.  For the past five years, he'd ask himself that very question—if he'd been Sorted into the right house.  Even with Dumbledore's insistence that only a true Gryffindor could've pulled the sword out the Sorting hat, Harry still didn't feel he deserved a spot in the best House at Hogwarts.

"Don't ever insinuate I should be in the House of Voldemort."

"You make Slytherin sound like such a bad thing," she said with a frown.

Harry laughed hollowly.  "Are you joking?  Your own founding _father_ didn't want Muggle-borns and half-bloods in Hogwarts!  He only wanted purebloods, just like _Malfoy_."__

"Do you know why?"

"Why else?  Slytherin didn't think they were good enough."

"Who told you that?"

For some reason Harry began to blush.  "Binns . . ."  

Nia snorted.  "Hearsay.  Don't you ever do research yourself?"

"Why would Binns lie?"

"To the victor go the spoils.  All you have to do is read _Hogwarts, A History_ to figure that out."

"You're just angry Slytherin was a bigot!"

"Or _maybe_ he wanted to head off a war like this at the pass.  He knew many families wouldn't want them to be here, and they would probably do anything and everything to keep them out, like a war.  Well, lo and behold, here we are."  

"So you agree with him?"  Harry scoffed at his own question.  "Of course, you do.  You _are_ a Slytherin after all."

She narrowed her eyes at him.  "Yes, I am a Slytherin, and _no_, I don't think people of mixed blood shouldn't be here.  If that were the case, I wouldn't be in this school, either."

"Right.  Do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Nia looked confused.  "I've heard of it, but I don't know what it is . . ."

"It was a place Slytherin built, where he housed a Basilisk, a snake that kills Muggle-borns and half-bloods upon sight—to finish his 'noble work.'  Explain that."

"I can't . . ."

"Because your House is EVIL!  There hasn't been one good person from that house!"

"Snape—"

"Snape is a Death Eater!  Did you know that?"

"What?"  

Her gasp was so soft, yet it tugged his heart strongly.  Nia's face turned ashen, and her amber eyes were wide.  He didn't mean to say that, not out loud and _definitely_ not to her.  He'd overheard Angelina talking to Fred once and realized who Snape was to Nia.

"Nia I'm—_ouch!_"

His hand immediately went to his cheek where it throbbed from the strength of her slap.  His eyes watered, and he blinked back his tears only to see hers streaming down her face.

"He is a _professor_ here!  He works closely with Dumbledore!  He's my _fa—Head of House!_  He wouldn't do anything to endanger this school!"

"But—"

"Don't talk to me, _Potter!_  You've said more than enough . . ." she seethed and left him standing alone in the corridor.  Alone.

Again.

He sighed and began to walk to his Tower.  He was no more than ten paces away from the portrait when he heard a hoot.

"Oh look, it's potty wee Potter!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

_Now I wish I _was_ alone!_

"Go away, Peeves!"

"Can't!  Not just yet!  I got something for you . . ."

Whatever it was, Harry was sure he didn't want it.

When he felt the torrent of cold-water pour on him, he knew he was right.

"_Peeves!_"

"It's not from me.  It's a gift from Roberts!  Such a lovely child, just like her mother . . ."  Peeves cackled as he went on his merry way.

Harry's teeth chattered from the force of his trembling body.  He muttered expletives as he walked the rest of the way, blindly searching for his wand in his robe pockets.  Suddenly the portrait door swung open.

_Great._

"Harry?"

_No!  Anyone but _her!

"Don't want to talk about it, Gin …"

"But you're all wet."

"Gee, never would've guessed."  He felt her glare at him, but he did not care.  All he wanted was his wand, so he could dry himself.

"_Arefacio!"_ Ginny exclaimed.  Harry's robes dried, and he gave her a look of gratitude.

"Thanks, Gin."

"How did you get wet in the first place?"

He scowled as he walked to her.  "Your _friend_ stuck Peeves on me.  He dumped water on me."

Ginny turned up her nose at him.  "I think it was toilet water.  You smell something awful."  

His eyes widened, and he sniffed his arm.  Sure enough, it reeked.  "_Bloody Roberts!"_

"Roberts?  _Nia_ did this?  What did you do to her?"

"What did _I_ do to her?" he asked, aghast.  "I'm standing here smelling like a toilet you ask what _I_ did to _her_?"

"Yes.  Let's fix that, shall we?  _Odorifera!_"  The stench went away, but now he smelled like flowers.

"Ginny!"

"Rather lilacs than a toilet."  She shrugged.  Harry's dark mood returned, and he marched past her to the portrait.

"Password, dear?" the Fat Lady asked.

He opened his mouth to reply; yet no sound came out.  

He didn't know the password.

He looked to Ginny plaintively, but she smirked.  "By all means, _be my guest,_" she said, presenting the portrait to him.

"Aren't you going to tell me the password?"

"Oh no, you seem in such a hurry to get away from me you couldn't even wait until I told you.  Looks like you're stuck with me for awhile."

"There are worst people I could be stuck with," he said with a grin.  

Ginny rolled her eyes.  "Twizzlers!"

The portrait nodded and swung open.  Harry gave her a weird look, and she shrugged.  "What?  It's a candy Nia gave me.  I liked it!"

"It might've been poisoned," he muttered.

"What was that?"

Harry ignored her question and walked into the common room.  Hermione was reading her Arithmancy book (already?!), and Dean and Ron were playing wizard's chess.  Or rather, Ron was beating Dean to a bloody pulp in wizard's chess.  

"I don't even know why I bothered to play with you," Dean moaned as Ron's knight trampled his queen.

"Dean," began Ron with what Harry would call an evil smirk, "just think of this as a, as a sort of _demonstration, _if you will . . ."

"Demonstration of what?"

Ron's grin became wider, and Harry felt sorry for Dean.  "Of what my brothers and I would do if you _ever_ touched Ginny—"  

"RON!  YOU GREAT BIG PRAT!  I COULD _KILL_ YOU!" Ginny exclaimed as she began to smack him upside the head.

"Gin—_ouch!—_Gin, wait a min—_dammit, woman!_  Hermione!"

"Yes, dear?"  

"Get her off me!"

She merely turned a page of her book and did not look at him.  "I warned you last year not to get in her business, and you told me to stay out of it.  This is me staying out of it."

Ron's mouth dropped in shock.  "But—but 'Mion—_Ginny!  Give me back my wand!  No!  Don't take it to the girls' dorms—_GINNY!"

The common room laughed as Ron tried to chase Ginny up the stairs, only to have them turn into a slide and send him back down.

"_Bloody hell!_"  He growled and stomped up the boys' stairs and slammed the door.

"I knew there was a reason I liked that girl," Harry said.

"What?  You like Ginny?" Hermione asked.  He groaned but felt his cheeks heat.  "Huh, I guess Ron was right then.  First time for everything, I suppose . . ."

Harry chuckled and sat down next to her on the couch.

"You two being together is an anomaly."

Hermione smirked.  "I see you've been hitting the dictionary as well."

He grinned.  "No, that's just one of Ron's favorite new words.  He wouldn't stop reciting it all night one time.  And he was usually referring to you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.  "Is that so?"

Harry swallowed nervously.  "Yeah.  He'd say, 'Hermione is an anomaly because she looks so meek yet is stronger than ten giants put together.'"  

She blushed.  "He said that about me?"

He grinned.  "Yes, he did."

She shrugged.  "I guess that's romantic, coming from Ron anyway . . ."  Hermione tried to look nonchalant, but he knew she was pleased.

"Right, Hermione."

She shook her head and put down her book.  "But this isn't about me.  This is about you and Ginny!  Oh, Harry, this is so perfect!  We could be siblings-in-law!"

He blinked his eyes fast and sat back from her.  "Really, Hermione!  Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?"

If Hermione wasn't blushing before, she was flaming now.  "Forget I said that  . . ."

Harry couldn't let this go, however.  "I know you're organized and think about the future, Hermione, but how long have you thought of marrying Ron?"

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.  "And what makes you think I'm going to tell _you?_"

Harry looked sad.  "Hermione!  I though we were best friends!"

"We are, but you can't tell me your loyalties lie more with Ron than with me.  I was just the know-it-all at the beginning.  Seems like I still am . . ."

"No, Hermione!  Don't think like that!"

She shrugged.  

"I love you, so does Ron."

"You love me?" she asked in a small voice.  

Harry smiled at her.  "'Course I do.  You're such a great friend, Hermione.  I probably would've been dead by first year had it not been for you!"

She smiled a little.  "Ron loves me?"

His smile became wider.  "Does he?  He's mad about you, Hermione!"

She snorted.  "More like mad _at_ me . . ."

"Not hardly, Hermione.  He's crazy about you."

"The same way you're crazy about Ginny?"

Harry didn't answer right away.  While he was attracted to Ginny, his affections for her were nowhere near the same level as Ron's for Hermione.  Then he grinned.  "The same way Mr. Weasley is crazy about Mrs. Weasley . . ."  

Hermione's face brightened like dawn on a new day, then twilight came.  "Then why can't he just _tell_ me so?!  Ron can be so thick sometimes."

Harry groaned at her change of attitude.  "Honestly, I think he's a little scared."

"Scared of what?  Do I look scary to you?"  Her brown eyes flashed, and she sat up straight, her hands at her hips. 

Harry hesitated in his answer again.  "You _are_ a bit intimidating, Hermione."

Her shoulders slumped.  "Is that why you won't tell Ginny how you feel?  Are you intimidated by her?"

He snorted.  "That, and the fact I know she doesn't like me that way."

Hermione looked sympathetic.  "Don't be like that, Harry.  She's liked you for years; I'm sure Michael Corner was just a substitute for you."

_Or someone else . . ._

"What's with the frown?" she asked.

He shrugged in defeat.  "I think I'm just destined to be alone.  It may turn out I won't need a love because I won't be around _to _love."  He remembered the prophecy Dumbledore told him at the end of term:

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . ._

A hand slapped his arm.  Hard.

"What is it with girls smacking me around today?" he muttered under his breath.

"Don't you _ever_ say a thing like that again!" Hermione chastised, not hearing his comment.  "Everyone is destined for love."

Just then Ron came downstairs again with an innocent grin on his face.

"Her_mione_!" he sang.  Hermione and Harry looked at each other skeptically before she smirked.

"Which hex do I need put you in before you promise to leave her alone and I get your wand back for you?"

Ron's face reddened madly, and he gaped at her.  "_Hermione!_"

"That's the only way you're getting your wand back, Ron."

"But '_Mione!_" Ron pleaded again.

She affected a yawn, stretching her arms lazily as she stood.  "I'm tired, Ron.  I'll see you and Harry in the morning."  She placed a chaste kiss to Harry's cheek and a light one on Ron's lips before going upstairs.  Ron was too shocked to return the gesture.

"I can't believe she just _left_ me!" he said once he left his trance.

Harry snorted.  "Ron, she's got you wrapped around her little finger."

Ron opened his mouth to retort but settled on a scowl.  He sat down next to Harry dejectedly.

"Why does she have to be such a damn know-it-all?" he asked.

"I think it's because that's one of the things you like most about her, and she knows it."

A silly grin formed on Ron's face.  "What's not to like?  She's perfect.  I'm surprised _you_ didn't go for it when that Skeeter woman was putting you two together."

Harry shrugged.  "She only had eyes for you, though I couldn't say the same thing for you . . ."

"What do you mean by that?!"

"Fleur notwithstanding, you were horribly thick in fourth year," Harry broke to him.  "Still are in a way . . ."

Ron shoved Harry back on the couch and began to wrestle him.  "I'll show you thick . . ."

Harry grunted from Ron's weight.  "I get it!  Damn, Ron, geroff!  I can't _breathe . . ._"

"Say I'm not thick, mate!"

"Can't very well do that now, can I?  I'll bet you outweigh Hagrid!"

A look of indignation washed over his face.  "You think me fat?!"

"Dammit, no, Ron!  Only you're buffer than before . . . you are _hurting _me!"

"Really?"

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Yes, now get off!"

Ron obliged his request with a grin.  "You think so, mate?"  He flexed his biceps, and Harry groaned.

"I should've never told you that . . ."

"Think Hermione likes it?"

"I think she likes anything that has to do with you, Ron," he answered honestly.

"Thanks, mate."

There was silence for a while.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"What I said to Dean . . ."

"What about it?"

"You know that applies to you too, right?"

It was Harry's turn to do the shoving.


	8. Eight

_Eight_

"Keep an eye on Potter, Weasley, and Granger; they tend to confuse _instructions_ with _suggestions_ . . ."

"Oh come now, Severus!  They are not like that in all classes, I assure you," McGonagall scoffed.

"Perhaps this is because you're their Head of House?"

"Or _maybe_ because they like and respect me . . ."

Jamilah listened to the banter with great interest.  There were many dynamics to consider when being a professor at Hogwarts—House and family name being among the most important.  This was especially true for the DADA professor because students could easily use what they learned in the class against their fellow classmates—something that couldn't afford to happen, particularly now.

"Do not be alarmed, Jamilah," Professor Flitwick said kindly.  Jamilah looked at the wizened wizard to her right.  "They go on like this _every_ faculty meeting."

"Do they now?"  Flitwick nodded.  "And Dumbledore allows this?"

"He says 'better in _these_ meetings than in more important ones,'" Professor Sprout said from Jamilah's left.

"I guess so . . ."

"Besides, they're _highly_ entertaining, don't you agree, Jamilah?" Flitwick grinned.

"That they are," she concurred.

"Since we're discussing troublesome students, Severus, may I alert Jamilah to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle?"

"You mean the same Crabbe who—"

"Yes, the very same," Severus said with a hint of anger.

"And they are the children of—?"

McGonagall looked sympathetic yet frustrated.  "Yes.  Fate decided to let those three procreate, Merlin help us."

Jamilah snickered as she pulled her schedule. 

_First period—Sixth Year N.E.W.T. level . . . _

All six of the mentioned students were in the class.

_Marvelous._

"Jamilah?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her new title for him.  "Do you have any more questions?"

"Yes, just one more."  She glanced down at her timetable before continuing.  "Where exactly _is_ my classroom?"

The rest of the professors chuckled at her question.

"Oh yes.  I'll lead you there after the meeting.  Since we seem unable to keep a DADA professor, Hogwarts doesn't designate a particular room.  Each room adapts itself to the specific professor.  For the past few years, the classroom has remained the same but not for you.  You, Jamilah, have a most prescient room."

Jamilah didn't know how to feel about that.  "Great."

"Anything else?" Dumbledore inquired.

The centaur across the room raised his hand.

"Firenze?"

His tail swooshed, and his hooves stomped on the floor.  "Could you please tell Peeves _not_ to transfigure the shrubs in my classroom into rhinoceros?"

Jamilah could tell Dumbledore had to stifle a laugh as he looked at McGonagall pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.  "Oh _fine,_" she moaned.  "I'll talk to him.  Though I daresay Severus is the more likely candidate."

"What do you say that?" Snape asked.

"The Bloody Baron is the only one who can control Peeves, and he is your House Ghost."

"But Minerva, it takes more than the Bloody Baron to make Peeves stop . . ."

"What are you implying, Severus?"  Her eyes narrowed warningly.

"He's implying you are more effective, Minerva, that is all," Dumbledore interjected.  Snape smiled slightly, and McGonagall pursed her lips into a thin line.

"Anything else?" Dumbledore asked again.  This time there was silence.  "Splendid.  Everyone have a great first day of classes!"

There was indistinct chatter among the faculty as they left to go to their classes.  Filius Flitwick patted Jamilah's hand in reassurance, telling her to contact him if she had any questions.  Pomona Sprout gave her a comforting smile.

"Good luck today, Jamilah," McGonagall wished.  "Though I must say, having your first class be the first year of N.E.W.T.s level DADA with those six would test anyone's patience."

"Even yours?"

McGonagall peered at her over her glasses.  "_Especially _mine!"

"Oh, don't let Minnie scare you, love.  _Everyone_ tests her patience!" Dumbledore said good-naturedly.

McGonagall smirked.  "Particularly you, Albus . . ."  She grinned at Jamilah slightly before walking ahead to her classroom.  Dumbledore winked at her and offered an arm.  Jamilah nodded her head and linked her arm through his.

"Still have a way with the ladies, I see," she teased as he led her to her room.

Dumbledore chuckled.  "Jamilah, love, Minnie is every bit her Animagus animal—the cat:  quick to lash out at the hand who feeds her . . ."

"And yet?"

He looked at her with twinkling eyes.  "She's quicker to defend that very hand from any harm with her life."

"Luckily it hasn't required that yet," Jamilah mused.

Dumbledore looked solemn.  "It almost did, this spring.  Umbridge came to fire Hagrid, and McGonagall wouldn't let her.  There were Aurors everywhere, and Minnie got hit.  Had the curse been cast by a stronger wizard, she could have died."

Jamilah squeezed his arm.  "Let's not think like that now.  It does no good to dwell on 'what ifs' of the past.  All we have is the present in order to make a better future.  Too many lives have been sacrificed; too many more will be."

"Yes, Jamilah.  Many more . . ."  His voice had a disquieting quality to it that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Granddad—"

He placed a finger to his lips and smiled softly.  "Here we are; your classroom."  Dumbledore opened the heavy wooden door, and she gasped.  The room was huge.  The walls were paneled in ebony with two ivory candle fixtures in each panel.  The ceiling was high, also ebony paneled, with nettings, ropes, and trapezes.  One wall had bo sticks, blunted swords, and other rubber hand-to-hand combat weapons displayed neatly.  The wall opposite it had a long bar that ran the length of it.  The wall to the back of the room had nothing on it—totally bare.  The last 'wall' wasn't a wall at all.  Instead, there were three floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun shone brightly.  

"There are window shades that, when pulled down and the lights out, create complete darkness within the room," he told her.  She nodded absently and walked further inside.  The desks faced the empty wall where her desk sat.  

"This . . . this room is incredible!"

"Watch this," he said with pride.  He pointed his wand to the wall behind her desk.  "_Resero!"_

The wall paneling moved away to reveal floor to ceiling mirrors, creating the illusion the already large room was bigger than it actually was.

"_Amazing!"_

"Just like the professor," he said lovingly.

Jamilah smiled softly at him.  "You say the sweetest things sometimes . . ." she said half-jokingly.

"Really.  Do you know how important your job is now?"

She became somber.  "More important than it ever should be."

"You have Mr. Potter in your class next.  He's very knowledgeable."

"He gets no special treatment in my class, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded.  "That may be, but you'll see he's a special lad."

"Seeing as he's one of the Chosen Four, he would be at that."

He smiled at her.  "The bell will ring soon.  I have the utmost faith in you, my dear."  With one final inclination of the head, Dumbledore left the room.  Jamilah sighed heavily and put her hands on her hips.  After much consideration she decided to move the desks into a U-shape around the center of the room, facing the bare wall.  She moved her desk so that it angled to the side, thus remaining in front but not blocking the wall.  She pointed her wand to the floor.

"_Solum Mutatio!_"

The floor transfigured into a tumbling mat in the area of the U.

"That's better . . ."

The bell rang.  Jamilah's heart began to race in anticipation.  Taking a deep breath, she walked behind her desk and waited for the students to arrive.

And boy, did they ever.

Without warning the door flew off the hinges and landed in the center of the mat.  There was a boy on top of it, silent and still.

"Lawdhavmercy!" she exclaimed as she rushed over to him.  His face was away from her, and she gently turned it.

His eyes were closed.

"No . . . wake up honey, wake up . . ."

It was as if her voice beckoned him awake, and his eyes opened slowly.

_Well, well, well . . . who do we have here?_

"WHERE IS HE?  BLOODY GIT!  HOW _DARE_ HE TOUCH HER—"

Jamilah was torn between helping the boy before her or seeing who was making the ruckus.

"_You are a prefect!  You're supposed to set an _example!" a feminine voice snarled.

"You will pay for that, Weasel!" a slow, deep voice promised.

"I always thought beating a Malfoy would be free of charge . . . you know, charity work," another voice snickered.

_Osiris and Apedemak always _did_ have a strained relationship . . ._

"Where am I . . .?" Malfoy moaned as he began to come to.  When he opened his eyes, she saw they were cloudy.

"Okay, okay.  Look at me.  How many fingers am I holding up?"

He squinted before replying.  "Four?"

She glanced at the three fingers she showed and shrugged.  "Close enough . . ."  Jamilah placed her palms at his temples.  "Look into my eyes, okay?"  He nodded imperceptibly, and she muttered a spell under her breath.  His eyes widened, and the cloudiness cleared.  

"What are you talking about, Hermione?  It was a simple disarming spell . . ."

The voices were getting louder as she checked on him.  He looked slightly pale, but then again, Malfoys were always known to be pale.

"Gettin' in trouble, already?" she asked pointedly.

To her surprise, Malfoy grinned.  "Not my fault Ginger's so hot . . ."

"I _HEARD _THAT!  _Furnu—_" 

"Finish that hex, and I will give you a detention," Jamilah said without turning around.  She heard mutterings behind her and saw Malfoy smirk.  Apparently there wouldn't be any detentions given.

Not yet, at least.

She sighed and helped him to his feet.  "Step away, Mr. Malfoy."  He did as she commanded.  Jamilah pointed her wand to the door.  

"_Foris Repara._"  

It went back to the entrance and repaired itself.

"Bloody brilliant that was," said the boy she assumed was "The Weasel."  

She rounded on him.  "Twenty points from . . . what's your house?" she asked as she looked for the emblem on his robes.

There were a chorus of groans and snickers as the feminine voice from before muttered, "Gryffindor."

"Never would've guessed that one," Jamilah said dryly under her breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Black hair, glasses, lightning scar on forehead.

Harry Potter.

_Lovely._

"Whatever you want it to mean, Mr. . . ."

"Potter."

"Oh yeah.  And what's your friend's name?"

"Weasel," interjected Malfoy.

"Five points from Slytherin."

"How do you know what House I'm in?"

"The large seal with your House name on it gives you away . . ."

This time the snickers came from everyone else.

"And why do we get points taken away?" said a large, mean looking Slytherin.

"He called someone outside his name.  That will not be tolerated in this classroom, is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good.  Sit."

The class followed her instructions without a word.  She had a good mix of students from all the houses; there were two classes of her first level N.E.W.T. DADA course, so the rest of sixth years would meet later in the day.

"It seems I should get a few things out the way before we begin.  I only have one rule in this classroom—mutual respect, mutual trust.  I respect you, I trust you, and in turn, you will afford me the same courtesy.  Respect is _huge_.  It will be given, and it will be maintained.  I don't care what House you're from or what your last name is.  I don't care if you're the most talented witch or wizard in the school or if you're as dumb as a doornail—which obviously you aren't if you're in this class.  You will play nice, and any issues you have with each other you leave outside that door.  And _don't_ think you're clever if you blow the door inside the room, right, Mr. Weasley?"

A small bubble of laughter sounded, and Weasley turned red.

A Ravenclaw raised his hand.  "Professor?"

"What is your name, sir?"

"Terry Boot."

"Okay, Mr. Boot.  What can I do for you?"

"We have no books for the class."

She smiled at him.  "Of course not.  What's the point of reading about the defending the Dark Arts when you're gonna need to actually _do_ it?"

There were murmurs of approval and some scowling.

"So, since I know y'all've learned enough theory last year to last you a lifetime, I think this year and next we will explore the more 'practical' means of defending against the Dark Arts."

"Praise Merlin!" offered one of the Gryffindors in a thick Irish accent.

Another hand rose.  "Your name?"

"Hermione Granger.  But don't you think we should still have books?"

"If you want books, I will give you a list of them you can check out of the library."  Granger seemed pleased with that response and nodded happily.

"Anymore questions?"

None of the students raised their hands.

"Wonderful.  Before I start, I will need a volunteer.  Anyone.  Anyone at all."

The students looked at each other before a Hufflepuff raised her hand.

"And you are?"

"Susan Bones."

"Miss Bones.  Take off your robes, and come to the center of the mat for me please.  Class, take out a parchment and quill; you'll need to write this down . . ."

"I thought you said we were doing the practical side!" Potter exclaimed.

"Unless you have a photographic memory, which I know you don't, I suggest you put the quill to the paper.  You can't very well practice what you don't know . . ."

Potter scowled but didn't reply.

Bones walked to her hesitantly, wringing her hands in front of her.

"C'mon now!  I won't hurt you!"

Bones quickened her steps until she stood beside Jamilah.

"Right.  Okay, hold out your hand."

Bones did as she was told.  Jamilah conjured a mirror from the air and put it in her hands.

"Now, stand there, Miss Bones, with the mirror's glass pointed towards me.  Place the back of the mirror at your chest.  Whatever you do, don't move."

Bone's eyes grew wider at the implication.  A murmur rose from the class.

"Ladies and gentlemen, especially ladies, here's a little tidbit for you.  Most of the hexes you will encounter are highly reflexive—_literally._"

Jamilah pointed her wand to the mirror.  "_Expelliarmus!"_

A stream of purple light came towards Bones at full force.  She closed her eyes and waited to be thrown back but realized nothing happened.  There was a collective gasp as the students watch the magic bounce from the mirror and straight back at Jamilah.

_"Finite Incantatum!"_

Before the spell could hit her, it disappeared.

"_Bloody hell!" _exclaimed Weasley.

"How did you _do_ that?" Malfoy asked in awe.

"How did you _stop_ it?" followed Potter.

She grinned at their questions.  "All right there, Miss Bones?"

Bones nodded mutely, her mouth partly opened in shock.

"The mirror not only reflects an image, it can also deflect certain spells; luckily many of the most frequently used ones in the Dark Arts.  However, the more powerful the witch or wizard, the harder the deflections."

Granger raised her hand.  "But how were you able to stop it?  Won't that defeat the purpose of using the deflection in the first place?"

Jamilah shook her head.  "Even if the caster avoids the reflected spell, the amount of time you would've gained by that is immeasurable.  Hopefully, your opponent won't know of that secret.  And as for making the spell disappear—you have to be highly skilled and highly powerful.  Not just any witch or wizard can do it."

"Fascinating," Hermione muttered.

"Yeah, it is.  Took a lot of practice for me to be able to do that as well."

"But who would pull out a mirror in the middle of battle?" a Ravenclaw asked.

"Your name is?"

"Padma Patil."

"Well, Miss Patil, you will, of course!"

"Unlike my sister, I don't carry a makeup mirror with me everywhere . . ."

A chorus of laughter rang out.

"This is why we're all going to stand, take off our robes, and practice conjuring a mirror from air while our partner uses the Disarming Spell.  I'll move the desks away so when you're thrown back, you won't hurt yourselves, right, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Indeed, Professor!"

"Okay, everyone!  Let's stand and get this show on the road!"

For the rest of the period, the class practiced and perfected their conjuring and deflecting.  So engrossed was everyone, the class almost missed the bell ring.

"Goodness gracious!  All right, class, we'll stop for now.  For next Monday I expect a half foot of paper on why the conjuring was or was not successful for you."

There was slight moaning and groaning, but it was more from habit than anything else.

"Double-spaced or single-spaced?" Granger asked as she packed her satchel.

Jamilah pondered the question.  "Double-spaced."

There was a collective sigh of relief.

Granger frowned.  "But what if I—_we_ can't fit all in a half-foot paper?"

Jamilah grinned.  "It can be done, I promise, Miss Granger.  Less theory and more practicability."

Granger nodded sadly and filed out with the rest of the class.

"Malfoy!  Potter!  Stay behind for a moment please.  I'll give you a pass to wherever your next class is."

Weasley gave Potter a sympathetic pat on the back before he left, and Malfoy smirked at his friends.

"Yes, Professor?" they asked.

She smiled at them kindly.  "You two are quite impressive.  Y'all were a few of the first to master the techniques."

"Thank you, Professor."

"In fact, I'm interested in perhaps holding some extra lessons for you two, especially you, Mr. Malfoy."

"I thought you said we were doing impressive work!"

"You are, which is exactly why I want to give you advanced lessons."

"Will we be doing the things in the extra lessons next year?" Potter asked.

"No, not in class."

He peered at her.  "Are you sure you want _Malfoy?"_

Jamilah looked the blonde boy straight in his eyes.  "Definitely."

"But his father—"

"Is _not_ Draco," she finished.

"I don't remember telling you my—"

"Boy, please!  The Heads of both your Houses warned me about you two!  I know how Professor Snape treats you, Potter.  Are you asking me to do the same to Malfoy?"

Potter did not hesitate.  "Yes."

"Unfortunately, I'm not Professor Snape.  Remember my rule—mutual respect, mutual trust.  I said at the beginning of class to leave your problems at the door, and this _especially_ applies to you and your friends.  You _will_ abide my rule—_particularly_ to each other.  Is that understood?"

Both boys nodded grudgingly.

"I will talk to McGonagall and Snape about setting up meeting times."

The bell rang, and Jamilah sighed.  "Dear me, where's your next class?"

"Transfiguration," Potter muttered.

"Divination."

"Do you struggle in that class, Malfoy?" Jamilah asked as she wrote their passes.

Malfoy snorted.  "If the professor was competent, then perhaps I would.  As it is I just make up some bullsh—I mean . . ."

"You have Trelawney?" Jamilah smirked.

"Unfortunately."

"What about you, Potter?  Do you take Divination?"

Potter looked bored.  "Yeah, I have Firenze, though."

She chuckled.  "He's as clear as a dense fog, ain't he?"

He cracked a smile.  "Something like that . . ."

Hers widened, and she handed them the slips.  "Don't dally getting to your classes, and don't kill each other either.  Both of you have great futures ahead of you."

Both boys looked at each other and her confusedly before Malfoy shrugged.

"Yes, Professor," they replied and left her alone in her room.  She watched them turn in opposite directions, and she thanked God for small miracles.  She could've just imagined the argument that would've ensued if they had to walk in the same direction.  Jamilah was glad she a free period after her first class; she knew she'd need it to regroup.

She chuckled in thought.

_Fate, fate, fate.  Lucius Malfoy is _not_ going to be too happy when he finds out his son will take up arms against him.  Osiris and Set are bitter enemies, and as the old saying goes, "No quicker way to become friends than to have a common enemy."  Only thing is both Potter and Malfoy are stubborn as mules._

She sighed and began to rearrange her class for her first years.  The class went back to initial setup, and she sat at her desk.  It was surreal to her.  Twenty years ago her _own_ daughter was at this school, taking these very classes, being friends with most of the parents of her current students; to teach here gave her a new appreciation for this school Hogwarts.  She pulled out an album Dumbledore gave her of Malika's school years here.  She looked so happy, flirting with Sirius Black and gossiping with Lily Evans Potter.  There were some photos of a serious James Potter and Malika talking while others showed her comforting Remus Lupin.  There were none of her and Severus together; Dumbledore said Severus kept them all for himself.

Severus.

He and Malfoy were alike in many ways; both had good souls yet always immersed in evil.  She only hoped Malfoy was stronger than Snape and would not make the biggest mistake of his life.  Snape's almost cost him Malika.

In many ways it did—Malika's almost betrothal to another man; a daughter that should've been his but wasn't, a life confined in the walls of Hogwarts; not so much when Nia was growing up, but especially now since Voldemort's return.

_Thanatos's return._

Thanatos, now, anyway.  When Voldemort first came to power, he was Set, of that she was certain.  But before he attacked the Potters, Set decided to change host bodies and use Thanatos instead; something that made no sense, and yet . . . perhaps it did.  The only concern now was no one knew who Set was _now_ . . .

If she was going to help her granddaughter, the very least Jamilah could do was know who the enemy was!  The years between 1980 and 1983 were the most confusing, random, and unsettling years of Jamilah's life.

The parents of her daughter's godson were killed; her almost-fiancé was accused for giving up the secret to Voldemort then killing a group of Muggles; Pettigrew was killed—her eyes widened.

_Pettigrew was _not_ killed!_

Jamilah gasped.

One more missing piece of the missing puzzle had just been found.


	9. Nine

_Nine_

_He watched them train, and a sense of awe filled him. One had eyes of the sun, and her inner beauty shone as brightly. She was his bride, his sister bride to protect the throne of Egypt and the world. There was love; how could there not be? She was his first love, and for that he'd forever cherish and appreciate her. But the other, the one who had eyes of the most fertile banks of the Nile, she was the one who had his heart. Those eyes looked at him so softly and filled with an emotion that he felt undeserving and yet oh so very powerful to have._

_He was torn._

_But for some reason, he didn't think his wife would be all that heartbroken. He wasn't dumb; he knew she had feelings for the Nubian god of war._

_He felt his lip curl in mild disgust._

_Apedemak was a thorn in his side, a necessary one, but a thorn nonetheless. Perhaps he should be glad the lion-headed god quit sniffing after Nephthys, though he knew that was illogical. Isis was his wife, but she didn't _feel_ like a wife. Isis was his best ally, his confidante. Whenever he had a problem, she was the first person he sought, for he knew her words were true and accurate. The affection was not limited either. She would hold him in her arms as they slept, offering a comfort he could find little where else. Her kisses calmed his ire or put him at ease—she was the greatest of friends._

_Nephthys, on the other hand, had quickly escalated to that status in his eyes, regardless of the fact they'd spent little time together as of late. For her face to be the first he saw when he awoke from the land of the dead seemed as sure a sign as any. Her eyes were so joyous when he awoke. Not that Isis wasn't happy, but the underlying affection in Nephthys's eyes made his heart stop again._

_It was as if Nephthys had awoken from the dead just as he, that he held the key to her living. It was a power he reveled in, but at the same time he felt scared and humbled. He didn't deserve her affections, no matter how much he wanted them. He'd hardly paid attention to her at the beginning, so concerned about Isis not being at the mercy of his brother Set._

_White-hot fire coursed through him at the mention of that traitor, but Osiris removed him from his mind._

_He had more important, pleasant things of which to think._

_She and Isis were so different, but then again he had green skin, and Isis was a dark mahogany color. Nephthys was the color of the purest white lily, and her skin was just as soft. Her hair was the color of fire, and it flowed down her back in waves—of course, that's when he was allowed to see it. Most of the time they wore those insufferable wigs that hid their beauty._

_He never understood the practice, but he left it to the will of women, and who was he to challenge that?_

_Especially if the woman-god was Isis. His wife even sent Ra in a trembling mess. _

_To say the least, Osiris was glad she was on his side._

_"A divided heart makes a man weak."_

_Osiris rolled his eyes at the voice. "Should I still say the same for you?"_

_Apedemak shook his head shortly. "No. I know the one who is for me, who is meant to be for me."_

_"But she is mine."_

_Apedemak scoffed. "They are _both_ yours! That is why your heart is so divided. Can you not let go of at least one?"_

_"And make things easier for you? Why ever would I want to do that?"_

_Apedemak growled lowly in his throat. His canines elongated with his ire, but Osiris was unimpressed._

_"I am not Thanatos; I will not cower every time you show your pathetic powers."_

_"If it weren't for these _pathetic_ powers, as you claim, you wouldn't be here."_

_"You think my wife so incapable to do things without your help? Surely you've misjudged her."_

_The growl became louder, and Osiris knew why._

_"Does it burn you I'm the one who holds her at night, Apedemak?"_

_"Does it burn you can't do the same to Nephthys?"_

_The white fire began to rise, but he was not fool enough to provoke the ire of his very powerful ally. Though he knew Apedemak would never aide Thanatos and Set for all the power in the world, it was better to be on more amicable terms than not._

_"Why don't you just go back to Nubia and leave us the hell alone?"_

_Apedemak smirked. "As much as I'd love to, I can't. I have duties here."_

_"Duties that include my _wife,_ I'll bet!"_

_Apedemak glared at him. "She's not an innocent party in this either, you know."_

_"I know she hasn't betrayed me."_

_"Yes, she has, in the worst way possible. She loves me."_

_A feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he heard the declaration. It made it real to finally hear it._

_"She loves me as well."_

_"But not as a wife should a husband."_

_"But she loves you as such?"_

_"And I her. I love that woman, Osiris."_

_He looked into the other god's eyes, and he couldn't deny the affection even if he tried. It was so obvious in those green eyes that Osiris's animosity for the man lessened._

_Only slightly. He still needed to hear how he felt for Nephthys._

_"I feel for Nephthys what you feel for Isis, Osiris. You have no fear of me trying to ruin that relationship."_

_"But you have no qualms about destroying the one I have with Isis?"_

_"That is totally different, and you know it. Are you really so selfish you'd keep both of them at your beck and call? Isis, while she loves you, desperately wants to feel a love you cannot provide her. She will not leave you, not unless you give her permission."_

_"She is loyal," Osiris agreed._

_"To a fault. But so am I. As much as you annoy me, Osiris, I am honor bound to be with you, to help you gain dominion over your brother."_

_"It's not gaining dominion; it's keeping this world from going into a black hell."_

_"And to keep Isis away from him."_

_"And Nephthys."_

_"What?"_

_"She was married to Set for a time."_

_"_What?_"_

_It seemed the world around him darkened as he continued to speak. "He thought he could use her to get to me, to get the power of the throne. But I think she was a substitute; he really wanted Isis."_

_"I know."_

_Apedemak's tone was one of indifference, a far more potent emotion than hate. Not caring what happened to one's enemy made it easy to vanquish him, and Apedemak did not care one bit about Set._

_"He was good, too. He said everything he needed to say. He filled her head with pretty words, told her Isis and I didn't care about her, Isis was jealous . . ."_

_"Why would he try to turn her against Isis?"_

_"Nephthys is far more powerful than she believes herself to be, and Set knew it. Though not as powerful as Isis, with her on his side, they could vanquish Isis much easier, or at the very least woo her to his side. He wants the throne, and that meant taking me out of the equation. But to do that, Set must get Isis."_

_"Hiding behind your wife, I see."_

_Osiris glared at him. "No. I stand beside her. If anything, she stands behind _me._ The greatness of the man depends on the woman behind him. She has my back, through thick and thin. If it weren't for her—"_

_"You'd be ruling the underworld."_

_"Which I may do still. The souls down there are not happy, Apedemak. Thanatos is wreaking havoc down there."_

_"Do you think Isis would follow you to hell?"_

_"Yes, I do, but she doesn't belong there. That is not her place."_

_Apedemak frowned. "You believe it to be Nephthys's place?"_

_Osiris looked the Nubian god in the eyes unflinchingly. "Her place is with me."_

_"Bold words spoken of a woman who does not belong to you."_

_"Isis and I were betrothed by our parents. Nephthys and I are betrothed by our hearts. So help me Ra, I love that woman."_

_"And what of Isis?"_

_He looked towards the two women again and saw Isis looking at him. She smiled slightly and looked at the other woman beside her. It was a knowing look, a look of understanding and acceptance._

_"Isis knows. She's not a dumb woman."_

_"She's the cleverest creature to walk this earth."_

_Osiris heard the pride in the god's voice, and he felt a stab of anger._

_"You will hurt her."_

_Apedemak's eyes flashed dangerously. "How do you think _I_ will hurt her?"_

_"The role of martyr comes too easy for you. You're too quick to lay down your life for her."_

_"And that makes me a bad person? _She's_ the one who continues to deny me!"_

_"Because she knows you. You love her, yes, but you love duty more. She wants all of your love, Apedemak, not just bits and pieces of it."_

_"Who is a man if he cannot fulfill his duty?"_

_"A man who lives, a man who doesn't let the one good, pure thing in his life go away because duty called."_

_"She has a duty to you, as well, Osiris. She won't allow herself to let go because she's bound to you."_

_Osiris smirked. "That's what she told you, eh?"_

_Apedemak frowned. "Is that not the truth?"_

_Osiris sighed. "She believes it is, but I know her better than she knows herself. She is afraid to love you."_

_Apedemak sputtered helplessly. "But—but-but _why_? I've never kept my feeling secret?"_

_"She saw how you were with Nephthys, the affection you held for her at the beginning. She doesn't want to be in a fickle love. You wanted Nephthys because you couldn't have her. Now that you can, you don't want her anymore. Now you want my wife, because you can't have her, but also because she is so powerful. She loves you on a more grounded level than she's seen you love, and she's not willing to risk her heart. Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn."_

_Apedemak jerked back as if he'd slapped him. "Does she really . . ."_

_"You treated her with such disdain when you first met us. You rescued Nephthys from Set, and you blamed her and me for putting Nephthys in his clutches in the first place. Besides, it's easy to love what you can't have because then you can't miss what you never had."_

_"That doesn't make any sense!"_

_"Yes, it does, especially since you know I'm right."_

_"It's not as if she treated me so nicely, either!"_

_"No, she didn't; she was very angry at you. You turned her world upside down. Love was never an issue until you came."_

_"As if I believe you."_

_"You don't have to, but against my better judgment I'm going to tell you this—she fell in love with you upon the first meeting of her eyes on you."_

_Apedemak drew in a wild breath. "What?"_

_Osiris grinned. "I told you I know my sister better than she knows herself. I watched her as she greeted you. Her eyes widened, ever so slightly, and she let out the tiniest of gasps. I knew then I'd lost her undivided devotion to me."_

_"Makes you crazy, doesn't it?"_

_"Yes, but that is because I don't believe you worthy of such a gift."_

_"Just as I don't believe you worthy of Nephthys."_

_Osiris raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Clearly that decision is not up to you. The Fates have decided."_

_"You'll never treat her the way I would have."_

_"Given the way you string Isis along, I daresay I treat her better."_

_"That is not fair!"_

_"It is fair. I know you've told Isis you love her. I know you tell her you wish you were together, but it's a lie! You don't love her, not the way she needs to be loved."_

_"How is that?"_

_"Completely."_

_"Do you love Nephthys completely? Even though I know you harbor strong affections for your wife."_

_"Yes, I do."_

_"How can you, when you're married to another woman?"_

_"While Isis knows me and understands me, she does not have me. We are independent of each other. Nephthys has me totally. And the reason she does is because I _gave_ myself to her. That is how you love someone completely, Apedemak, to surrender yourself to that person."_

_"I am not capable of doing such a thing."_

_"And that is why you never could have Nephthys, and you'll _never_ have Isis."_

sssssssssssss

Someone was hitting his back incessantly, and it was driving him nutters.

"Blasted all! Leave me be!"

"Drakkie, I can't! We have our prefects' meeting to get to! Wake up!"

"So what? I don't really want to hear that old hag praise the Mudblood and her daft boyfriend once again!"

"Neither do I, but we have no choice!"

"There's always a choice, Parkinson."

"Fine, I'm sure there are _other_ things we could do instead of going to the prefects' meeting. I'm sure we could have our own _private_ one in the prefects' _bathroom_."

Draco suddenly became ill, and he stood quickly. "On second thought, it would be good to unnerve those two; that always brings me joy . . ."

"Oh Drakkie! You're so deliciously sadistic!" Pansy linked her arms through his, and he controlled the urge to gag.

The walk to the meeting was long and full of Pansy's chatter. Luckily for Draco, he'd learned to tune her out long before now. They entered the Great Hall's antechamber and noticed everyone else was already there.

_Great. Merlin knows how I love to make an entrance!_

McGonagall peered at them over her glasses. "So nice you two could join us. Wouldn't want to keep you from more _important_ matters . . ."

There was a loud cackle that sounded oddly like the Weasel's.

"Sleeping is rather important, Professor," he said coolly.

The other students gasped at his nerve, and McGonagall lifted an eyebrow. "Be careful, Mr. Malfoy, I wouldn't step one toe out of line if I were you," the formidable witch warned.

Draco met her eyes undeterred and gave a slight nod. Far be it from him to give his father something _else_ to rail about. He ignored the loud whispers and sat down in a corner. He was directly across from the Mudblood, the Weasel, and Ginger.

He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes, but not before he saw a corner of her mouth lift.

"We are going to do something different this year. For the past several days, you have been allowed to choose your own partners. However, in the wake of current events, the Headmaster and I have decided it would be best to make the partner selection random, to foster a stronger unity between the Houses. Here I have the names of all of you here. With a simple tap of my wand you will be paired at random with your new, _permanent_ patrolling partner. There will be no swapping unless the Headmaster and I are sure you two would kill each other if the opportunity arose . . ."

She looked pointedly at Weasley and Draco, and he chuckled. Whatever else he thought of McGonagall, daft was not it.

She lifted her wand and tapped the list three times. "_Misceo._"

All the students watched McGonagall's face as she studied the new list. Her eyes widened slightly then pursed her lips into a thin line.

Draco was excited by the possibilities of such a reaction.

She muttered another spell, and the parchment multiplied to the number of students who were present. "All right, prefects. Here are the newly sorted lists. As I said, they are not subject to change unless totally necessary." She handed one to everybody, taking longer than necessary to give Draco his copy.

He glanced down at the parchment and smirked.

_Malfoy, Draco; Weasley, Ginevra._

He could practically feel Weasel's anger boring a hole through his head, but he really couldn't care less.

Ginger. Alone. For two hours. _At night_.

If he could, Draco would send Fate a very nice thank you card.

He lifted his eyes, making sure to give a _very_ obnoxious wink to the already-about-to-explode redheaded boy being calmed by his Mudblood girlfriend.

"Mr. Malfoy, kindly stop flirting with Mr. Weasley as I go over important instructions for your patrolling duties," McGonagall said airily.

Draco blushed hotly as the rest of the students snickered at him.

Someone growled.

"You are to remain with your partner at all times. If one of you should get lost . . ."

Draco began to tune McGonagall out again, thinking this bit of information unnecessary to hear.

_Let Ginger go? Not bloody likely . . ._

Unbeknownst to Ginny Weasley, she was stuck with Draco—for good. If he'd had any doubts about his feelings for the youngest Weasley, they were all eradicated when he first saw her in Flourish and Blotts—dusty from traveling by Floo, the most beautiful creature he ever saw. He dragged her out of that bookstore to a secluded spot—he didn't remember where, nor did he care—and he held her. He didn't kiss her, he held her so tight she had to hit him to let her breathe. A feeling so foreign and overwhelming encompassed his whole being; kissing was the last thing on his mind then. Ginny didn't seem to mind, after he loosened his hold on her, slightly anyway. She burrowed her head underneath his chin, and her arms went around his waist. He'd never felt so safe, so _wanted_ in all his life; it was like coming home. _That_ was what really left him unsettled and yet at peace for the first time. No wonder Malfoy Manor seemed so cold; Ginny was home for him.

_Some things never change._

Draco frowned at the thought.

"Drakkie!"

An elbow hit his side hard, and he glared at Pansy.

"What?"

"We're done, and your assignment is up."

He looked at McGonagall who was glaring at him. He barely contained the urge to roll his eyes as he left the meeting. Draco looked around and didn't see Ginger or her prat of a brother, hoping that meant he left before they had to do their shift.

"Random, my arse! McGonagall did that so we'd have babysitters. She doesn't trust us," Pansy prattled.

"She's not daft," Draco said absently.

"Right," she said sarcastically.

"Who's your partner anyway?"

Pansy grinned. "Granger."

Draco didn't know whether to feel sorry for Pansy or Granger, so he chose neither.

"She won't let you out of her sight for two seconds," he warned her.

"Good, she's got it coming to her from last year."

"And unfortunately for you, she'll probably send it right back."

"You're defending her?"

"Don't really have to; she can do that for herself."

"Just because she slapped you silly third year doesn't mean she can do the same to me," she said meanly.

Draco glared at her. "She probably wouldn't be as kind to you."

She looked at him strangely. "Crabbe was right; you _have_ changed."

"Yes. I've gotten taller, more attractive . . ."

"That little bitch—"

"If I were you, I'd shut up." His voice was calm, but the power was there nonetheless.

"You've got soft, Draco," she said instead.

"According to you, but then again, you're listening to Crabbe which doesn't mean much. He may be smarter than he looks, but that doesn't mean he's a Merlin or anything."

She scowled at him.

"Run along, Parkinson. Don't you have Goyle's arse to sniff around?"

She sniffed at him and walked away. He praised Merlin for small miracles. Draco walked towards the main corridor, hoping to find Ginny there.

He found her brother instead.

Suddenly an arm pressed hard into his windpipe, and he felt his back slam into the wall.

"You even _look_ at her wrong I swear to Merlin, Ferret, I will kill you."

"Aren't—aren't you doing that _now?_" he wheezed.

Ron narrowed his eyes and pressed harder. Draco swore his eyes bugged out his sockets.

"You thought you were so clever Monday, knocking over my sister to 'help' her stand, putting your hands in places they _don't belong_ . . ."

"And yet she wasn't complaining."

Draco knew this wasn't helping him breathe any better, but to see the red creep in Weasel's face was more than worth it.

"Why you little—"

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Ron's arms suddenly snapped to his body, and he fell backward straight as a board. Draco collapsed against the wall and held his throat, soothing the abrasions caused by Ron.

"Can't . . . believe . . . you . . . did that . . ." he gasped.

"Rather me let him kill you? Though I daresay that's one less pest to worry about," Granger said dryly.

"You're too kind."

"Unlike you, _Malfoy_, I have a conscience. I can't just stand there and let someone kill someone else."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Had the shoe been on the other foot, and one of your goons had their arm at my throat, would you stop them?"

Draco merely blinked at her for a moment. Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes as she pointed her wand to Ron.

"_Finite Incantatum."_

Ron bent his legs to make sure he had command of his limbs again before he jumped up and rounded on Hermione.

"Why did you _do_ that?"

"You're a prefect! You seem to forget that fact whenever Malfoy's in your presence!"

"He was touching my _sister!_ I had to give him a proper warning."

"Dear Merlin, Ron! I don't remember you acting this way whenever he picked on me!"

"Does the word 'slugs' ring any bells?" Draco offered.

Both Gryffindors glared at him, but Ron inclined his head in Draco's direction.

"Oi! Remember that? Remember when he called you a—a—"

"Mudblood," Draco supplied.

Ron gnashed his teeth to retain control. "_That._ I tried to hex him—"

"Bang up job you did, at that," he interjected.

"Shut _up,_ Malfoy! Besides, Ginny's waiting for you at the stairs."

"You're _letting _him go _alone_? What kind of friend are you?"

"Would you rather I ask McGonagall if I can switch places with Ginny?"

All the color drained from Ron's face. "_Hell_ no! This is the same bastard who wished the basilisk would kill you."

"Clearly not all wishes come true," Draco muttered.

Hermione looked smug. "No, thanks to Harry."

It was Draco's turn to glare. "Enough of this. I have my patrol to run." He began to walk away when Hermione's voice stopped him.

"And Malfoy? You'll _never_ be _half_ the man Harry is. You're just a substitute."

He heard the hidden meaning in the barb and he felt rage flow white hot through his veins.

"What do you—"

"I've figured it out, of course. I _am_ the cleverest witch in a century, Malfoy; surely you encounter that fact each time we get our scores . . ."

He turned and looked at her coldly. "Better a substitute than a mistake, Granger. At least substitutes are _worthy_ of the replacement. Mistakes need to be corrected. You will be corrected soon enough."

He heard a gasp from behind him, and his heart plummeted in his stomach. Draco didn't want to turn and face her, but it was better than seeing the smirk on Granger's face. He turned and faced her resolutely. Ginny said nothing, her mouth clenched closed and fire in her eyes.

She was _very_ upset with him.

"Ready to go, Little Weasel?" he asked as if nothing had happened.

"Her _name_ is _Miss Weasley_ to you!" Ron seethed.

Draco rolled his eyes and began to walk away, not bothering to wait for Ginny.

"Keep your wand ready at all times, Gin; never know what the spawn of evil is bound to do. If I weren't so confident in your defense abilities, I'd switch out _myself_."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, Ron, but I think I can handle it from here," Ginny said dryly.

"I don't trust him, Gin. Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll be _fine!_ Now stop babying me!"

Now Draco could only hear muffles and the clicking of feet against the stone floor. He tried to remain nonchalant as Ginny joined him.

She did not speak to him.

_I really just do _not_ need this._

"Ginny—"

"Did you mean it?"

Her tone was flat, void of emotion. He knew it was merely bubbling under the surface of her perfectly schooled face.

_Now I could lie, or I could tell the truth. Which would make her less upset at me?_

"C'mon, Ginger, if I didn't say something like that, then they'd suspect about us." He desperately hoped that was an adequate response, for it sounded pretty pathetic to his own ears.

She guided his face, so that her eyes locked with his. He felt himself being sucked into those chocolate orbs, and he prayed never to be free of them.

She blinked.

"You are lying to me. You meant it."

His heart moved from his stomach to the center of the earth. He wondered how he still stood since she'd ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

At least it felt that way.

"Ginny—"

"Do you really hate her that much?" she asked quietly and turned from him. She began to patrol the hallways, and Draco had to walk to keep up with her.

_Do I hate Hermione Granger?_

To be honest, he didn't know. In the beginning he taunted her because he was bred to do so, now he did it because she really just got on his nerves.

Hermione Granger had the same status as Pansy Parkinson.

_Damn, now _there's _a revelation!_

Since the moment their parents introduced each other, Pansy Parkinson had been nothing but a thorn he so desperately wanted out of his side. It had all but been determined Pansy Parkinson would become Pansy Malfoy, and _that_ prospect filled him with never-ending dread.

So did he hate Hermione Granger? Not necessarily, but he wouldn't object never having to see her face again.

"I don't _hate_ Granger, per sé; I just wish I never met her," he finally answered. He cast a furtive glance in her direction and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her grin.

"She _is_ the cleverest witch in a century, though. I bet it burns you a Muggle-born student does so much better than the pure-blooded Draco Malfoy."

"Like hell it does! Doesn't help my _father_ rubs it in every damn time he sees me, the bastard." He jumped a bit when he felt her small, warm hand grasp his own.

"You're not a substitute, Draco, not for me."

He stopped walking and faced her, cupping her cheek softly. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

She lifted her hand to grasp the one that was on her face. "I mean it, Draco. I see it in your eyes, this constant fear of not being good enough, that you're not worthy or something. You are, for me anyway. Will that be enough?"

He had to kiss her, or he'd die. He crashed his mouth to hers then immediately softened the contact, worshipping her as his personal goddess, which to him she was. He didn't deserve her, that much he knew, but he thanked whatever god necessary that Ginevra Weasley thought him worthy of her affections. She was definitely worth his.

He pulled away slowly. "I hope you realize I still won't make nice to the bratty Dream Team, don't you?"

"If you did, I'd be worried you weren't my Dragon." She grinned.

"I don't get you, Ginevra."

"To be honest, they give as good as they receive. It's not my place to get in your issues. My only wish is you keep it to my brother and not my family. Though we are family, Ron is a special, special member of it." She smirked.

"I think you're the special one," he said sincerely.

She blushed slightly. "Uh, I think we should continue with the patrol, hmm?" She moved away from him and started to walk. Draco wanted to hold her hand, but he realized that wasn't appropriate for what they were doing. They passed the rest of their shift in relative silence, only speaking to those out past curfew or those who were lost. It was a relatively quiet night, and for that Draco was thankful.

Finally their shifted ended, and they headed back to the main stairs. Ginny leaned against the banister slowly.

"Nice night for a stroll, wasn't it?"

A corner of his mouth lifted at her corny attempt. "If you could call it that . . ."

She looked up the stairs then back at him. "It's a lonely walk to my tower . . ."

He grinned fully. "Want me to walk you there?"

"Please."

This time he held her hand, linking his fingers between hers. She squeezed his hand, and they began up the stairs. They had just reached the sixth landing when the stairs shifted.

"Shit."

Draco would've laughed if the staircase didn't lead them to a very dark corridor.

_"Lumos."_

The light was insufficient, painfully so, and he grasped her hand tighter to keep her near him.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" he asked.

"Not a clue."

He glanced back and noticed the stairs no longer connected to the landing.

They were trapped.

"Stay close to me, then," he commanded. She moved closer to him, and he felt her chest at his arm. Had this been any other time he would've acted accordingly—thrown her against the wall and attempted to have his way with her—but now was a far more serious instance. The odd part about the corridor was there were no doors except for one at the end of it. A stream of red light came from it, and he felt nervous. Apparently so did Ginny because her grip on his hand tightened even more.

"This was _not_ part of our patrolling duties," she muttered. Draco kissed her temple to ease her nerves, and Ginny sighed.

"You're the Gryffindor! Where's your courage?"

"If I didn't have any courage, I would've been blubbering by now!"

Draco chuckled. He knew she was scared out of her wits, but the Gryffindor in her wouldn't let that deter her from discovering what was behind that door.

He loved her even more for it.

"Shit!"

"What's wrong Draco?! Are you hurt?"

He closed his eyes at the feel of her cool hands on his face. His mother was right; he loved the youngest Weasley.

It scared him to death.

"I'm fine, Ginger, I promise."

He opened his eyes, and they locked to hers again. They reminded him so much of the woman from his dreams, of Nephthys . . .

"_Bloody hell!"_

"What is _wrong_ with you?!"

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong!"

"People don't curse when nothing's wrong, Draco!"

He ignored her accurate comment and continued to walk down the corridor. Finally they reached the door. No one touched it.

Suddenly an ethereal voice sounded from behind the door.

"Come inside, you two. We've been waiting . . ."


	10. Ten

_Ten_

She felt weightless, and a tingling sensation permeated her entire body.  It was as if the room crackled with a strange energy, a strangeness that seemed oddly familiar.  The room was conspicuously bare with hieroglyphics over the walls and one very large pyramid in the center of it.  Each side was a different color—gold, green, scarlet, and silver.

Their house colors.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked.

He looked as confused as she felt.  "Not a clue."

"I'm afraid, Draco."  She wrapped her arms around herself, and his came to join hers.

"I'm right here, love.  I'm not going anywhere."

Her heart sped at the endearment, but she tried to make light of the situation.  "Not as if you have much choice.  I don't think we would be able to leave even if we wanted to!"

She felt him shift to look behind him, and he chuckled.  "You're right, Ginger.  There's no door."

"This room wants us to do something, and I don't think we'll be able to leave until we do it."

"If it involves you naked and me naked, I think I can oblige the room," he said seductively as he nibbled on her ear.

"Draco!"  She wriggled out of his embrace and faced him, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm just saying what you're thinking, love.  That's all."

His grin was so cocky and oh so sexy.  It melted her on the spot.  "_Draco . . ._"

"Yes, love?"

Her heart rate increased again, and she wondered how she spent her life without ever hearing him call her such before.

"What are we going to do?  We need to get out of here!"

He stalked closer to her, and she forced herself to remain where she was.  The heat emanating from him was enough to melt steel.

"I'm going to kiss you, and you're going to let me."  He said it with such arrogance she rolled her eyes.

"And what makes you think . . ."  

The contact of his soft lips on her temple caused all speech to flee her mind.  She clutched at his robes, and he placed his hands at her waist.  He moved his lips slowly down her hairline until he reached her ear.  He blew a cool stream of air at the tips and continued till he reached her ear canal.  His nose nuzzled the space where her ear met her temple, and she groaned.

"_Draco!_"

"I'll never tire hearing you moan my name, love," he whispered.  "It was meant for you and you alone."

She groaned again and moved her arms around his neck, bringing her flush against him.  He placed his hands at the back of her thighs and put them at his hips.  She locked her legs around him.

It was his turn to moan.

"Ginger, you're going to be the death of me."

"Then I had better stop.  I like you much better alive."

She made to move her legs, but he patted her behind.  "Who said I wouldn't bring you with me?"

Ginny chuckled lowly and directed his lips to hers.  Suddenly she didn't care if she was trapped in an unknown room with a strange aura.  Draco was with her, and the familiarity and security he offered would make her feel safe anywhere.

Like she was home.

She pulled back quickly with a gasp.

"What's wrong, Ginny?"

She licked her lips and looked away from him, moving her eyes to the area of floor beside his feet.  She felt his hand tenderly caress her jaw before grasping it lightly.

"Look at me, Ginny.  Tell me what's bothering you."

"I'm afraid."

"I'm here, Ginny; I'm not going anywhere."

She sighed.  "I'm not talking about the room."

"I'm not either."

Her body tensed at the declaration, and he lifted her chin.  Those stormy gray eyes were no longer turbulent, but serene and clear.  She saw herself in them, and she sighed again.  He lifted a corner of his mouth, and he rubbed her nose with his.  Ginny whimpered and cradled his face in her hands and placed a lingering kiss to his forehead.  He tightened his hold around her waist and kissed her jaw in soft pecks as he lowered them to the ground.  She was now straddling him and felt a very _obvious_ change in his anatomy.

"Oh!"  But she wiggled her bum, loving the feel of it.

"Ginger . . ."

"Dragon?"

"Don't—don't do . . ."

"Hmm?"

"You're going to be the death of me," he said again.

"Then I'm coming with you."

"You bloody well better!  I can't be without you, love."

"Nor I you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his head cradled against hers.  He placed soft kisses along her pulse point, and Ginny unconsciously tightened her legs around him.

"Ugh.  Make them stop, Asar!  _Please!_"

Ginny shrieked and fell backwards, almost hitting her head if Draco's strong arms hadn't stopped her fall.

"I'm rather enjoying the show, Apedemak.  It's been awhile for me and my love."

"_Asar!_"

"_Nebt-het!"_

"I agree with Apedemak.  They _really_ need to stop."

"You're only saying that because _you_ _two_ hate each other at the moment.  As soon as you two wake up, you'll be worse than us."

There was a snort.  "Not likely."

All throughout the exchange, Ginny and Draco had disentangled themselves and stared at the large wall before them.  It was a picture of four figures—two female and two male—all looking strangely familiar to her.

She gasped.

"You're a quick one, thank Ra.  I really would've been disappointed if I was as dumb in this life as I was three lives ago," the one called Nebt-het said.

"Three lives ago?" Ginny heard herself ask.  She looked to Draco, but he was too busy staring at his reflection.

Well, his reflection had green skin.

"You look right handsome, my boy.  I'd expect nothing less; I _am_ the ruler of the underworld . . ."

Draco blinked rapidly, and his mouth dropped open.

"You—you're—"

"Yes, my boy.  Though I daresay it took you awhile be open to figuring it out.  That infernal father of yours had you so warped I couldn't contact you until I was certain."

"Certain of what?" Ginny asked.

Asar's one eye shifted to her, and she shuddered.  Whereas the portraits in the corridors could move fully, these paintings could only move in profile.  It was disconcerting as well as fascinating.

Draco answered hurriedly, and Ginny had the distinct feeling he didn't want her to know the "what."  "Why didn't you say anything before?  We'd been in here a while, about to . . ."

"Yes, well, we figured you two should have a moment.  At least you're not fighting it as a certain _other_ two are . . ." the other female figure muttered.

Ginny snickered.  "You know, you look eerily like—"

"Nia.  Yes, every one of them had to be a spitting image of me.  But you take what you can get."

"But what a beautiful image it is, Aset."

"Shush, Apedemak, you old dog."

"Darling, don't you mean cat?"

"A mangy one at that."

"If I could, Asar, I'd swipe that smirk off your face."

"You call yourselves different names than the ones in my dreams.  Why?" Ginny asked.

Asar shrugged.  "The Greek names are more well-known than our Egyptian names, and we figured it would be best to introduce ourselves as something vaguely familiar.  I know you went to Egypt recently.  They now call us Osiris, Isis, and Nephthys there."

"And you're still Apedemak?" Draco asked the lion-headed god.

Apedemak nodded.  "I'm Nubian, not among the same parentage as these three.  My fate was different than theirs."

"But you three are siblings?"

"Yes.  The gods and goddesses were all interrelated; even Apedemak is some sort of cousin.  But our familial laws do not manifest the same as mortals.  Each genetic composition, if you can call it that, is completely independent of each other."

"So it's more in name only," Ginny concluded.

"Very much so.  But the times changed and so did our tactics.  We became mortal, and since we were now bound by mortal familial laws, we had to scatter," Aset said.

"Which is why none of us are in the same family anymore," Draco said.

"Good deduction."

"Praise Merlin!" Draco laughed.  Ginny huffed and crossed her arms in front of her, but she couldn't help but feel the relief as well.

"Yes.  You are free to love each other now, just as we did in our time," Nebt-het said with a smile.

"For millennia, we couldn't get our act together, but the one time we did, it ended in disaster."

"Because of me?" Ginny asked.

"Because of _my _descendant, daft woman she was.  She fell in love with the wrong person," Aset muttered.

Ginny was concerned.  "Are you saying our feelings aren't really ours, but they're—they're yours manifested so 'you' or 'we' don't mess up again?"

Nebt-het looked at her kindly, or as kindly as a one-dimensional painting could.  "No, love.  They are yours—fully yours.  Ours are corollary if that, but necessary to unlock the magic inside.  We can't force you to love each other; we just try to give you a little nudge."

Draco scowled.  "What magic?  We've already 'unlocked' the magic.  We wouldn't be at Hogwarts if we didn't."

Apedemak gave him a smirk that oddly reminded her of Harry.  "Silly boy, just like your ancestor."

"I resent that!" Asar huffed.

"Resent it all you like, but he's right," Aset said with a laugh in her voice.

"But Aset, wife of mine, he wouldn't understand.  Not with his father working for—"

"To be fair, Nia doesn't know, either."

"That's because Thoth is sitting on the information, won't give the child the scroll.  I know he read the first one—"

"And Sekhmet isn't helping matters either.  She's coddling her," Asar said.

Ginny was growing impatient.  "_What_ are you _on_ about?"

"Has she told you about training?" Apedemak asked.

"Who?"

"Sekhmet."

Ginny and Draco shared a blank look.

"Jamilah.  Nia's grandmother."

"_Ooh!_"

The gods laughed at their simultaneous comprehension.

"Yes.  You should start soon.  I understand some of Nia's powers have shown."

Ginny grinned.  "Bloody brilliant display, as I understand it.  I just wish I was there to see it."

Apedemak and Aset shared a look.  "Imagine what would've happened had all of _her_ powers been unlocked.  What you saw was just the tip of the pyramid."

"And Harry?  He's done amazing things as well."  She heard Draco snort, and she grinned at him.

"Did I mention how happy I am you're not a dim one?  I just thought I'd reiterate that," Nebt-het said with a note of pride.

"Yes, Harry as well.  His nobility will take him far but not as far as necessary.  It'll take more than honor to eradicate Thanatos and Set," Asar said wisely.

"I've heard those names before," Draco said.

"Yes.  And you'll hear them many more times to come.  I'm surprised Thoth hasn't told you yet," Asar said.

"Who is Thoth—oh.  Really, I should've figured this out before!" Ginny said, slapping her forehead lightly.

"Yes, Dumbledore, the crazy eccentric, he is.  He's the one who installed the room."

"How?"

"His wife, Seshat, left him instructions."

"Well, who is she?"

"Ask Nia that, love," Nebt-het answered to Draco.

"Will we remember this when we wake up tomorrow?" he asked skeptically.

The gods laughed again.  "Every word.  I just ask you don't broadcast this room to the school.  The stairs can only do so much in preventing stragglers."

"That was done on purpose!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Of course it was.  We had to let you know before you began training.  It's nothing like you're used to doing.  Harry's D.A. lessons were good, but nothing compared to what you're going to need."

Ginny didn't like the sound of that.

"Do we tell Nia and Potty?"

"You two _still_ don't like each other?" Aset groaned.

"He tried to take my woman!" Asar exclaimed.

"I _did_ take your woman!"

"I meant Nebt-het!"

"Love you too, Asar; love you, too."

"Really, Aset!  Apedemak had you at hello!"

Ginny giggled at their banter.  The gods sounded so much as when the four of _them_ were together that any doubts she had of their story being true disappeared.

"If you would be so kind, could you tell us who Thanatos and Set are?" Draco interrupted.

There was immediate silence in the room, and Ginny felt a chill go through her.

The same chill that came when Tom Riddle invaded her body.

"No!"

Nebt-het looked sadly at her.  "Yes.  He's coming back for you, love.  You need this training more than ever."

"And Set?  What of Set?" Draco asked as he wrapped his arms protectively around Ginny.

"Nia is safe . . . for now.  But the man with the silver hand will figure it out soon enough."

"What?"

Asar looked grave.  "To give the thin and thick of it, all hell will break loose in a year's time."

~~~~~~~~~

If he weren't so dedicated to Dumbledore, he would've turned Potter over to the Dark Lord himself.

"You act like the child wasn't gonna find out for herself at some point." 

Snape glared at his former mother-in-law.

"But even you must admit, Jamilah, it was not Harry's place to share that news, especially in such a matter as he did."

For the first time Snape could ever recall, there was censure in Dumbledore's voice as he spoke of Potter.

It was almost enough to lift his spirits.

"His place or no, the cat's outta the bag now.  Only question is what do we do with said cat?"

"Pet it?" Dumbledore offered.

Jamilah rolled her eyes, and Snape offered a smirk.

"Give my daughter time.  She'll forgive me, hopefully . . ."

Jamilah smiled at him, a rare occurrence.  "My daughter forgave you; I think her daughter could give you the same courtesy."

"You actually think me worthy of forgiveness?"

"Regardless of what I or anyone else thinks of you, you love that girl as if she was your own."

"She _should've_ been my own, but I was too blind, too consumed to do anything about it."

She looked at him with regret.  "Things had to happen the way they did in order for us to have a fighting chance."

"I know."

"In time Nia will know as well."

"I hope so."

Dumbledore's eyes shifted between Jamilah and Severus.  "You said you had news, Jam.  About Set?"

Jamilah's eyes brightened considerably.  "Yes!  I think I've finally figured out who he is."

Severus looked nonchalant.  "It's Pettigrew, isn't it?"

"What about the sneaky little rat?"

Sirius walked into the room, his hair still dripping from a shower he just took.  Severus groaned.

"This is none of your concern, Black.  Go hide under a bed like a good doggie."

Sirius growled.

"You seem to do that a lot, which I really can't blame you for, since it takes a modicum of intelligence to speak in a human language."

"Then you must've got the good lady and Dumbledore here to translate ass talk because you're the biggest jackass I've ever met in my life!"

"Severus, Sirius, _please?_  This is a rather important conversation, and we really don't need you two bickering."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Yes, Professor."

Jamilah chuckled shortly before continuing.  "I've realized who Set is.  It's Pettigrew."

"I knew it," Severus muttered.

"Who is Set?"

"A very bad god who's trying to take over the world," Dumbledore said.

"And my grandbaby."

"This makes no sense . . ."

"Let me ask you, Sirius, when you decided to make Pettigrew the Secret-Keeper instead, did you think he'd ever turn on them?"

His eyes clouded over in rage.  "No.  Not at the time, but he did, and he took me down with him.  I'll never forgive the bastard.  Never."

"Brilliant move, I daresay.  No one would've suspected the mousy Pettigrew to be the most evil being to walk the earth," Severus said.

"You mean to tell me _Pettigrew_ is more evil than _Voldemort._"

"Yes.  Voldemort is icing on the cake.  The batter is Set," Jamilah said.

Severus could tell Sirius didn't believe a word they were saying.  "Impossible!  You read Harry's account of Voldie's resurrection!  Pettigrew was a whimpering fool!  Hardly what I'd call evil than a bloody traitor who deserves to die . . ."

"A bloody traitor who owes a debt to Harry Potter," Dumbledore said.

Snape's eyes widened slightly.  "What?"

"Yes.  There will come a time Mr. Pettigrew will have to repay that debt.  Chances are it will happen in a Voldemort/Harry showdown."

"Harry saved that rat's _life!_  One of the few times I wish he'd been in Slytherin.  At least he would've disposed of the bastard as he should've."

Severus glared at Sirius, and the other man merely smirked at him.

"Too much Gryffindor nobility stopped him at that, so he's alive and apparently very well," Severus said.

"Dumbledore, why is Nia in Slytherin?" Jamilah suddenly asked.

Severus tried to control the wince he felt.  He'd often wondered that as well, for he thought Nia was far more like her mother, who was a Gryffindor.

"I'm not the Sorting Hat, Jam," he said, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Jamilah rolled hers.  "Don't play with me, Granddad.  You know why every child is Sorted the way they are."

"Granddad?" Sirius asked confusedly.

Dumbledore smiled at him.  "Never would've guessed that, would you, my boy?"

"Just that the family resemblance isn't all that clear," Sirius mumbled.

"Nor is the human one with you, but we give _you_ the benefit of the doubt," Severus said dryly.

"I thought Dumbledore said to stop, _Snivellus!_"

"That I did," Dumbledore replied and gave Severus a reproachful look.

He hated being treated like a twelve year old, but that didn't stop him from rolling his eyes and crossing his arms before him.

"Yes, back to my question," Jamilah said, looking pointedly at the men before her.

Dumbledore sighed.  "Your granddaughter is noble, to be sure, but she has cunning and an ability to hide herself when necessary, something that is distinctly Slytherin.  She would make a very good Occlumens, like Severus."

"Not like Potter.  He was horrible," Severus interjected.

"Why else did I get you to teach him?  You're far better than I."

"And because you thought the Dark Lord might have taken him over."

Dumbledore looked grave.  "But he did, eventually.  Tried to get the boy to turn on me."

Sirius snorted.  "He never would've pulled a Wormtail on you, Professor.  He's got James's blood in him."

"I know that now.  I regret not trusting Harry's abilities and loyalty."

"It's not as if he's a Hufflepuff," Severus said dryly.

"But he's not a Slytherin either.  _That's_ the most important thing."

"And yet two Slytherins hold the very fate of the word in their hands.  As Nia says, 'how do you like _them_ apples?'"

"They rot like a corpse, look like your teeth, and they smell, too," Sirius snarled.

"Hmm.  I guess you love them, don't you?"

"Go to hell!"

"I go there every time the Dark Mark burns, thank you very much!"

Sirius's eyes widened at his outburst, but Severus didn't care.  The double duty was weighing heavily on him, and the fact that Nia knew about his role in the war didn't set his mind any more at ease.

"You asked for it.  I have no sympathy for you," Sirius sneered.

"That's the last thing I want from you, Black.  But then again I'll bet you couldn't _wait_ for the opportunity to turn, so you could be Leka's shoulder to cry on!"

"I was more than that to her, Snivellus.  I was almost her fiancé!"

Severus smirked.  "And yet, she was _my wife!"_

"And the mother of _neither of your children, thank God!" Jamilah snapped._

If Jamilah had backhanded him, the blow would've been less painful, but she went right for the jugular—Nia.  He spared a glance to Dumbledore and saw his eyes watching the ceiling and his fingers in their familiar steeple.

"Headmaster?"

"I'm going to sit here and stare at this _fascinating_ ceiling until the three of you are _quite done with insulting each other.  Carry on."_

The three looked shamefully at one another, but no one apologized.

Jamilah sighed.  "Any other reason Nia's in Slytherin?"

Dumbledore nodded.  "Draco Malfoy."

"So, what?  Nia plays Malfoy's girlfriend?"

"No.  She's his foundation, and he hers."

Sirius's eyes narrowed.  "What the _blazes_ does that little nosebleed have in all of this?  He's the enemy!"

"He needed to have someone he'd be willing to risk his father's wrath and his friends' scorn for."

"Malika was there for you that way," Sirius admitted grudgingly.

"But she was not of my house."

"Don't you _dare_ blame your fall from grace on my daughter!" Jamilah warned.

Severus sighed wearily.  "I am doing no such thing.  What I am implying is having Nia and Mr. Malfoy in the same house, which means constant contact with each other, will provide the boy with the courage he needs to break away.  I had no such luxury; I didn't have courage in the first place."

"I agree.  You would've made a pathetic Gryffindor."

"And by all accounts, so did you."

Rage filled Sirius's eyes.  "You _bloody, sniveling prat!"_

"Sirius, leave.  Now."

Dumbledore's voice was soft, but it left no room for argument.

Sirius looked aghast.  "It's all right for _him_ to insult me, but _I_ get the boot when I return the favor?  That's bias!"

"Something a Slytherin lives with daily, Black.  Doesn't feel too good, does it?" Severus smirked.

"Like your Dark Lord and his goons show their bias by killing innocent Muggles and mixed-bloods?"

"No, Black, that's a vendetta."

"And racism," Dumbledore added, the green aura starting to form again.

"Granddad, come back to us.  Come back."

She rubbed his arm gently; he began to calm.  Sirius looked at the older man with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Do I want to know . . ."

Severus shook his head.  "It would be best if you didn't, Black.  We didn't bring you back from the dead only to get killed again."

"Why would I get killed?"

"I go into a daze, my boy.  I remember the worst memory of my life and, with that, the rage I felt.  Only a few people can bring me back from it."

"Does it have to do with Malika's rape?" Sirius asked, his face blanching.

Severus sucked in a breath of shock, wrath, and terror.  "_What?_"

Three faces looked guiltily at him.  Even Sirius's face was void of its usual smugness.

"How did you—" Jamilah began.

"She wrote me a letter, more to tell me she knew I was innocent," Sirius said sadly.

"You told me it was a ritual . . ." Severus breathed.

"It was.  Nia had to be conceived in chaos and despair," Jamilah said quietly.  A tear streamed down her cheek, but Severus didn't care.

Nia was the product of a rape.

Severus felt hollow.  "And Johnson—"

"Was under the Imperius Curse at the time."

"I thought Aurors were trained against it!"

"Not if they're given a sedative to make their minds weaker," Dumbledore said.  He looked at him with sorrow, but there was no regret.

Sirius stared blankly at a wall as he spoke.  "It was October of '82, one year after Voldemort fell.  The Order apparently knew there was Dark activity despite no Voldie.  They and other Aurors were still doing 'cleanup,' as it were.  They ambushed a Dark Revel."

Severus's blood ran cold.  Though he'd officially been a Hogwarts professor for a year, he still had to maintain a sense of "loyalty" to the Dark Brethren as a part of his job to the Order.  Then, not many people knew of the double role he played, but what bothered him was he didn't remember any of this.

"Was Set there?"

Dumbledore nodded.  "He was."

"Who cast the spell?" Severus asked monotonously.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and one tear fell.  That tear filled Severus with a sense of dread.

"You did."


	11. Eleven

_Eleven_

Music from her charmed CD player blasted through the headphones.  She attempted to drown out life, drown out her reality, but she knew it was a temporary fix.

The permanent fix would've been to kill herself, and that option wasn't nearly as appealing.

In any case her life had become increasingly worse since she attended Hogwarts last year, and there was nothing more she would've enjoyed than to go back to her simple Muggle life, a life in which she was sure she was created out of love.

_Nia had to be conceived in chaos and despair.  _

She squeezed her eyes tightly in an effort to get her grandmother's sorrowful voice out of her ears and head.  She intended to apologize to her father, to let him know she understood why he was a Death Eater.

But to know he was the cause of her mother's rape put him at a level above Voldemort.

She couldn't talk to anyone; she couldn't let anyone know she knew how she came into this world.  As it was, she wasn't supposed to know in the first place, so talking about it was out of the question.  No, she had to sit in his class and pretend she was the same Nia from before, upset her "daddy" caused her "father" to rape her mother and produce her.

_Life couldn't get more screwed._

It had been relatively easy to avoid her family and friends.  She hid behind her books for most of the weekend, and classes restricted her to structured conversation.  She rarely left the third years' dormitory and did not speak during meals.  She knew Draco wanted to talk with her, but she didn't trust herself to do the same.  He didn't deserve her anger.  So now it was Monday night, and she was in the DADA classroom because her grandmother wanted to give her extra lessons.

_Extra lessons, my foot._

She skipped dinner that night.  Draco was getting more insistent, and it was getting on her nerves.  More than once she felt her fingers clenched with the desire to slap him silent, but that would do nothing but make her feel guilty.

If anyone needed to feel guilty, it was Snape.

Snape, the man who claimed to love her all her life, was the reason she was here in the first place.  He placed Angelina's father under the Imperius Curse and forced him to rape the woman he claimed to love so desperately.  It seemed to her that had all been a lie; he loved her no more than roaches loved light.

_But then why did they seem so happy together?_

Nia entertained the idea it was a ruse to keep her in the dark, but she remembered her mother's letter and dismissed it.  There was clearly affection there; there was clearly love.  But could their love be so twisted as to cause such a heinous act?  Perhaps Snape used Imperius on her mother to make her _think_ she was in love?  Was _she_ herself under the curse?  These questions left a feeling of dread in her stomach, and her eyebrows furrowed in distress.  Nia thought she should've stayed to hear the rest of the conversation, but at the time she was too upset by Dumbledore's revelation.  As it was, she couldn't look upon Snape without seeing red, and she really didn't think sending him flying through the air would do anything but get her kicked out and a possible stay in Azkaban.  If the wizard's prison was anything Ginny said it was, she didn't plan on making a trip there anytime soon.

She frowned a bit.  Ginny seemed a safe enough person to talk to about her issues, but she was never around since she became a prefect.  To be fair, it was only the first day of the second week, but it felt like a lifetime to her.

_Might as well have been a lifetime.  I feel like I've aged thirty years or something._

She wondered what other secrets were being kept from her.

Nia sighed and rested her head against the wall as her foot tapped to the beat of her music.  She could worry about that later; right now all she cared about was her music and remaining calm enough not to shoot gold sparks out of her hands again.

Her plan was going well until she felt the presence of someone else in the room and the sensation of being watched.  It made her warm, yet she shivered.  An eye popped open.

_Great._

She ignored him as he sat along the wall, placing a few feet between them.  It was _his_ fault she was in this predicament in the _first_ place.  If he'd kept his mouth shut, she wouldn't have had to confront Snape.  And since that would not have happened, there would've been no need for her to apologize, which consequently caused her to overhear Snape was the cause of her mother's violation.

_Yup.  It's all Harry Flippin' Potter's fault._

_Punk._

The weight of his stare became oppressive, and she turned an evil glare his way.  Harry merely smirked at her, which only served to fuel her fury.  She kept it in check, however, opting to roll her eyes and sigh dramatically.  He smirked even more.

It was a battle of wills she did not intend to lose; she would not be the first to break . . .

Harry snorted.

"Why are you here?" she asked, as nonchalant as possible.

_So much for not breaking._

She turned down her music to hear the reply.

"Funny.  I was going to ask you the same thing."

She rolled her eyes.  "Be quick about it, Potter.  I have an appointment with Professor Roberts in about, oh, ten minutes."

"Why don't you just call her grandmum?  Everybody knows that's who she is."

"Flip off, Potter."

He shook his head and grinned annoyingly.  "No can do, Roberts.  I have an appointment as well.  Looks like we're stuck here together."

She sighed, closed her eyes, and shook her head before turning the volume up again.  Everything was going well until she felt a tap on her shoulder.  An eye popped open again.

"What is that?"

The eye closed.  "What is what?"

"That thing you have in your hands.  Are you listening to music?"

She nodded.

"How?  I thought you couldn't play electronics here."

"You can if it doesn't run on electricity."

"Then why call it electronics?"

She was right; Harry Potter got on her nerves.

"Because in the Muggle world, they do.  I'm too tired to think of a name to call it in the wizarding world.  Don't like it?  Too bad."

To her surprise and dismay, Harry took a seat next to her.  "May I see it?"

Nia stared at him blankly before shrugging her shoulders and handing him the device.  "Break it and die."

He chuckled.

"I do not play, Potter.  I'm in no mood for games."

"Who put your knickers in a twist?"

"My 'knickers' are _not_ in a twist!"

"Then why are you being so short with me?"

"I'm always short with you.  You're a good ten inches taller than me!"

He chuckled, and she had to bite her lips from forming into a smile.  "You have this rather annoying way of twisting my words around, Roberts."

"If I didn't do that, I would make a pretty crappy Slytherin."

"There could stand to be crappy Slytherins.  All the good ones create havoc and terrorize innocent people."

Nia did not respond.  Her emotions were too raw to take another revelation he could dispense.

"What?  No spiel about how great Salazar Slytherin and his House are, or have you finally woken up to reality?"

"I have nothing to say to you," she said, and she took her CD player roughly from his hands.

"What?  Are you going to slap me instead?"

She chuckled darkly.  "Believe me, Potter, if I attack anyone right now, they'll end up like Crabbe."

Harry held his hands in surrender.  "Duly noted, but what's got you in a funk?  Not that I care or anything . . ."

Nia lifted an eyebrow at him.  "If you didn't care, you wouldn't ask."

He gave her a half-grin, and Nia's heart sped against her will.  "Call me curious."

She snorted.  "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Satisfaction brought him back."

She shook her head and grinned.  "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're trying to cheer me up."

He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.  "Then you're bloody smart, because I'm _not_ trying to cheer you up.  I'm _trying_ to keep you amicable, so you don't blast _me_ to the other side of this rather large room."

"Thinking of yourself?  How very Slytherin of you."

He scowled.  "Here I am trying to do a nice thing, and you insult me!"

"All I said was 'how very Slytherin of you.'  I wonder why you'd think that was anything _but_ a compliment?"

She grinned at him, and he returned in kind.

"Seems like your mood is improving."

She shrugged.  "Appearances can be deceiving."

"That is right; you _are_ a Slytherin which means you _are_ all for deception."

"I'm so sick of you turning everything to a House thing.  People can act independently of their House descriptions."

"You started it."

She cocked her head at the comment.  "Right.  I did.  Now I end it."

He said nothing to that and raised his knees to put his elbows on them.  She sighed and turned the volume higher on the player.

"What are you listening to?"

"Music."

She could feel Harry roll his eyes without even seeing him do it.  The knowledge amused and confused her simultaneously.

"I _bloody_ know that.  Who?"

"You wouldn't know.  They're an American Muggle group."

"Humor me."

"There was once a priest, a rabbi, and a Buddhist monk in a bar . . ."

"Ha, ha.  Not funny."

"Hmm, that's the only joke I can think of off the top my head," she said in mock disappointment.

"Really.  Who?"

She shrugged but did not open her eyes.  "Boyz II Men."

"You're right; I've never heard of them."

"You really should.  They're great.  Tight harmonies, great singing.  I'm gonna marry one of them."

"How old are they?"

"Twenty-something . . ."

He snorted and opened an eye to glare at him.  "Do they know this?"

She grinned.  "They'll know when they find themselves in a Las Vegas chapel saying 'I do.'"

"Isn't that illegal?  What are you, twelve?"

"_Thirteen!_" she growled.

"Sorry!"

He didn't sound the least bit sorry, and she sucked her teeth.

They sat in silence for a while.  Her CD finally ended, and she took off her earphones.  Nia rummaged through her satchel, looking for the case of her CD.

"Have you dreamed recently?"

The question stopped her in mid-rummage.  She frowned and faced him.

"Have you?"

He was about to answer, when the door opened and a laughing Ginny bounded inside and slammed the door quickly.  Harry and Nia shared a confused look.

"C'mon, love!  Let me in!"

"No can do, Draco!  Have to say the magic word!" Ginny purred through the door.

There was silence for a moment.  "Earlobe."

Nia's eyebrow quirked as she saw Ginny visibly shudder.

"That's not fair, Dragon!  You don't place nice!"

"Neither do you, love.  You won't let me in, so I can taste those succulent earlobes of yours.  Don't know which I prefer more—the left or the right . . ."

"For the love of _Merlin,_ Ginny!  Let the wanker in!" Harry groaned.

Ginny's head snapped in their direction, and Nia gave her a lazy wave.  Ginny's face turned the color of her head, and she opened the door quickly.  Draco sauntered inside and grabbed her by the waist sharply.

"Now, I believe you owe me an earlobe," he whispered seductively before moving his lips to one.  Harry and Nia looked at each other in distaste.

"Ugh, Malfoy!  Get a grave!"

"After you, Potty, after you."

Nia ignored their banter and looked at Ginny.

She was smirking.

"What?" Nia asked on chuckle.

The redhead's eyes darted between Harry and Nia, and the smirk turned into a grin.

"Don't even _think_ about it!" Nia muttered. 

Ginny bounded to her and sat on Nia's right.  "I've got news for you."

"Oh?  What kind of news?"

"I'm surprised Draco didn't tell you already, but apparently you've been avoiding him.  Why's that?"

Nia glanced at the floor.  "Don't wanna talk 'bout it."

Ginny put her hand on Nia's shoulder and squeezed.  "You know I'm here for you, right?  Just because I'm a prefect doesn't change anything."

"Yeah."

Ginny frowned, but it melted into a grin again.  "Anyway, about my news . . ."

She didn't get a chance to tell Nia because Jamilah walked through the door.  Nia felt her face form a frown.

"Welcome!  I'm glad you could make it."

"Not like we had much of a choice."

Jamilah smiled sweetly, and Nia knew it wasn't a pleasant smile.

"No, you _did_, Mr. Potter.  Only the other choice wasn't _nearly_ as appealing as this one was."

Harry glared at Nia, and she shrugged.  

"Everybody gather your things.  We're going to the pitch."

The students looked at each other confusedly.  There was dread in Nia's stomach.  They left the castle and walked quietly to the Quidditch pitch.  Jamilah stopped them in front of the Hufflepuff changing rooms.

"I have here your training gear.  Change out quickly.  I expect you inside the pitch in ten minutes."

Draco gaped at Jamilah.  "_Ten minutes!  _That's not enough—"

"Betta make it enough, then, Mr. Malfoy, or you'll be doin' more than I assign you."

Nia's dread spread from her stomach to her entire body.  She didn't like where this was going.  She grudgingly accepted the gear and went into the girls' changing room.  

"Nia—"

"Not now, Ginny.  I think I need to prepare myself for what's about to happen."

Ginny looked at her sympathetically but said no more.  In eight minutes they walked onto the sand-covered ground of the pitch.  Harry was already there, looking at the hoops.

"There's no Snitch out here," Ginny teased.

Harry grinned with a mischievous glint in his eyes but said nothing.

Nia snorted.

_Pervert!_

Jamilah began to count down.  "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two—"

Draco sprinted onto the pitch just as the word "one" left Jamilah's lips.  The older woman tsked him.

"Mr. Malfoy, now you're just gonna wear yourself out faster."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Jamilah smiled.  "Suicides, my boy.  You will sprint to a certain point and then back here; every time you turn back, you will sprint to a farther point until you have reached the halfway point of the pitch.  And I'll give you fifteen minutes this time.  But first, warm-ups.  Start by running the perimeter of the pitch."

Four mouths dropped open as the pivot points were marked.  The pitch was the length of a football field.  

"No bloody way," Draco breathed.

Jamilah laughed.  "When there's a will, there's a way, dear.  C'mon!  We don't have all night!"

Reluctantly they began to run, and as a stitch formed in her side, Nia could only pray the night passed by quickly.

~~~~~~~~

Angelina waited in the Three Broomsticks impatiently as she tapped her fingers on the splintered table.  It was a week before Halloween, and she and Fred were in Hogsmeade searching for costumes.  She told Fred to meet her there at 12:30.  It was currently pushing 2:30.

"Insufferable git!  Wait 'till I get my hands on him . . ."  She smirked.  "That's probably why he's doing this, to get my knickers in a twist.  Merlin knows he's a randy wanker."  The past two months had been, to say the least, eventful.  Angelina did not join a professional Quidditch team, much to the surprise of everyone.  Instead she worked as a cook in her mother's restaurant.  Very few people knew she loved to be in the kitchen, combining different foods and herbs so that a culinary masterpiece could be made and enjoyed.  Not as if the twins ever complained.  In fact they and Alicia had a running tab at Felicia's Southern Delights.  Fried chicken, collard greens, and cornbread was Fred's favorite dish.

"A dish he will be wearing instead of eating if he doesn't bring his cute patoot here soon."

"Angelina?"

Angelina's scowl turned into a smile at the sound of her name.  She stood and waited for younger girl.

"How goes it, Gin?" she asked, wrapping the younger girl in a tight hug.  Angelina frowned.  "Is that muscle I feel?"

Ginny broke the hug and scowled.  "Do _not_ ask!"

"Quidditch?"

Ginny groaned.  "I would first like to say Ronald Weasley is the biggest _prat_ ever to walk the surface of the earth."

"Is he Quidditch captain?"

Ginny nodded.  "He's worse than you were!"

Angelina rolled her eyes.  "Gee, thanks, Ginny!"

"I meant that in the most affectionate way possible," Ginny said as she batted her eyes.  Angelina shoved her good-naturedly.

"Right."

"But Quidditch aside, that's not why I'm 'fit,' so to speak.  We have a new DADA professor—"

Angelina grinned.  "Aunt Jamilah.  She's a tough one."

Ginny sighed.  "You're telling me!  The worst thing about it is Draco, Harry, Nia and I all have _extra_ lessons, but so far all we've done is run enough to circle the globe three times over and lift it to boot!"

"What do you mean?"

"She's been running us ragged and doing weight training.  I swear I could bench-press Hagrid if the need arose," Ginny said dryly.

Angelina frowned.  "Why are you doing all of that?  If it's DADA, shouldn't you be practicing spells or something, as we did in D.A. last year?"

Ginny's eyes widened, and she nodded her head energetically.  "That's what Harry and I thought it would be, but _no_.  Nothing like that.  No magic's been used at all."

"That's odd."

"I'm just glad she's giving Harry and me the next two weeks off.  We have a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff next weekend."

"How often do you go for extra lessons?"

Ginny scowled.  "Every other day.  I feel like I'm in the Muggle military!"

"Well, Uncle Frank _was_ a captain in the American Army."

"Who?"

Angelina smiled.  "Nia's grandfather.  I never met him though; he died before I was born.  But I heard some stories from Granddad about them in the War."

"The war with Grindelwald?"

Angelina shook her head.  "The Muggle World War II.  Both of them were in the Army and stationed over here in England."

"Fascinating."

"Yeah.  They were there for D-Day, when the Allied troops stormed Normandy.  It was a turning point against the Germans; gave them the upper hand, it did."

"That's so cool!"

Angelina grinned at the look of fascination in Ginny's eyes.  Most girls Ginny's age were only concerned with boys or popular culture.  Ginny had a right wild streak in her; danger had a certain pull to the youngest Weasley.

"When the War was over, Grandpa Danny sent for his wife Felicia from Georgia.  They moved to England and have been here ever since."

"So _that's_ why your mum has such a weird accent; it sounds a bit like Nia's."

"Yeah.  Grandpa Danny's Southern accent never went away, but Grandmum Felicia's lessened as the years went by.  Mum's accent is a bit like Grandmum's.  Mum still calls Grandmum 'mama.'"

Ginny laughed.  "It's so funny hearing Nia complain after we train.  She says 'grandma's gonna wear me out!' or 'Ma's gunnin' for somebody here, tryin' to kill us all . . .'"

Angelina laughed at Ginny's poor attempt at an American Southern accent.  "How's Nia doing?"

Ginny calmed a bit.  "She was the slowest of us all, but that's because she was the least athletic.  She couldn't do all of the suicides for a while, and while she's still the slowest, she's not as slow as she used to be.  She can at least finish it all now, and she doesn't lag too far behind.  But strength training is where her true talent lies.  She's almost as strong as Harry."

"Who's the fastest?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.  "Harry."

"And the strongest?"

"Harry.  Draco is only slightly faster than I am, but I'm the weakest when it comes to strength training."

"Harry seems to turn everything to gold when he touches it."

"Except for women; they turn into thistles at his touch," Ginny smirked.

Angelina was intrigued.  "Really now?  How so?"

"At the beginning of term, Nia put Peeves on him, dousing him with toilet water."

Angelina slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes widened.  "Tell me you're joking!"

Ginny looked around conspiratorially.  "And _now_ he's in some on again, off again thing with Cho.  I mean, really, can't those two make up their bloody minds?"

"Jealous, Gin?"

The redhead snorted.  "Hardly.  Why would I be when I have Draco?"

Angelina looked at her skeptically.  "Who else knows about you 'having' Draco?"

Ginny sighed.  "Of course Harry does; he figured it out some time ago.  I overheard Hermione taunt Draco about it during our first patrol—Ron was there."

"_Ron _knows?"

Ginny shook her head.  "No, he didn't put two and two together, thank Merlin.  I'm partly glad Draco's gained some mass, though; now it won't be such an unfair fight when Ron attacks him."

"Yeah, Ron would've rearranged that cute little face of Malfoy's."

"Staring at my boyfriend, are we?"

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again—Malfoy's a sexy little wanker.  Doesn't mean I'd date him for all the magic in the world."

"You're that sprung on my brother, aren't you?"

Angelina felt a silly grin form on her face, but she did not care.  "I love him, Ginny.  I love everything about him, _even _his tardiness."

"He's late?  I just saw him in Zonko's not too long ago."

Angelina rolled her eyes.  "Figures."

"Yeah, showing Ron, Harry, and Dean some of their new products.  I tell you he's a bold dumb one to do that in his competitor's store."

"Fred doesn't care!  He thinks he's going to buy out Zonko's in three years," Angelina laughed.

"They always did aim impossibly high," Ginny said dryly.

"Another reason to love your brother, Ginny."

"Speak of the devil."

Angelina felt the familiar clench of her heart at the sight of him.  He was smiling, his cheeks rosy with the chill outside, and his eyes sparkled.  Angelina liked to think it was for her alone.

"Gin!  Long time, no see!" he said as he kissed his sister's temple.

Ginny scowled.  "It's been all of ten minutes!"

Fred rolled his eyes and move toward Angelina.  He stopped his progress when he saw the scowl on her face.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"What time is it, Fred?"

He checked the clock over the bar in the restaurant.  "2:20."

"What time did you say you were going to meet me?"

The color drained from his face.  "Angel, love—"

"Squash it, Fred.  I swear you'd be late to your own funeral if I wasn't there to remind you!"

He snickered.  "Who'd be in a hurry to be dead, love?  Certainly not me!"

"Yeah, yeah.  Just sit down."

She grabbed the sleeve of his robes and pulled him into the seat next to her.

"Where's the lovely Nia?" he asked, looking around the pub.

"I don't know.  I haven't seen her the entire time we've been here.  I'm sure Aunt Jamilah gave her permission to come to Hogsmeade!  I was looking forward to seeing her."

Ginny became somber.  "She's not coming."

Angelina's shoulders drooped.  "Why not?"

"She has detention."

"_Detention?_  For what?"

"Apparently she said some really nasty things to Professor Snape during class not too long ago.  I don't know the details but it had something to do with her mother and your father."

Angelina's heart sped.  "What kinds of things?"

Ginny shrugged.  "Like I said, I don't know.  But it was pretty bad.  I overheard Professor Roberts and Dumbledore talking about it."

Angelina looked at Fred with panic in her eyes.  "How bad?"

"No extra-curriculars, no Hogsmeade, no nothing.  She's restricted to class, meals, and extra lessons."

Fred whistled lowly.  "Must have been something harsh.  Wish I was there to see it!"

Angelina elbowed him.  "Fred!"

He didn't look apologetic.  "The prat's a monster!  I would've _paid_ to see Nia put him in his place!"

"But that's her father, I mean, whatever," Angelina said with a roll of her eyes.

"She blames the entire thing on Harry, by the way."

"What does Harry have to do with this?"

"Remember I told you about Harry and his incident with Peeves?"

"Peeves and Harry had an incident?" Fred asked.

Ginny chuckled.  "With toilet water."

Fred guffawed loudly.  "How do you like that!  Everything happens _after_ I leave Hogwarts!"

"Anyway, it seems Harry told Nia about Snape's double role, and she didn't take the news well."

"Why would she be upset?  She's friends with a Death Eater's son!  The entire _House_ is full of potential Death Eaters!"

"Need I remind you which House Pettigrew came from?" Ginny said coolly.

Fred scowled and conceded her point grudgingly.

"That was not Harry's place to say anything," Angelina said.

"Women have some warped ideas of blame," Fred muttered.

"Excuse me?" Ginny and Angelina asked warningly.

Fred's cheeks heated.  "Bygones."

"I wish I knew what got her so upset with Snape!  This, this is not like her at all . . ."

"I'll be honest with you, love, the Johnson women tend to have a bit of a temper."

"A temper you have yet to see, Weasley.  Keep it up; you're about to become _real_ acquainted with it."

He blanched and looked to his sister for support.  Ginny merely grinned.

"I love you?"

Angelina laughed shortly.  "Last night you seemed pretty sure you did.  Why the question now?"

Fred blushed again, and Ginny laughed.  "It's as if Angelina has a switch for you or something.  One minute you're as red as a rose, and the next as white as a ghost."

"Bugger off, Gin!"

"Ugh.  I hate this.  I hate these secrets.  It seems one bombshell after another is hitting us.  What's next?  Nia has a past life I don't know about?"

It was Ginny's turn to become pale.

"What's wrong, Gin?  You have one too?" Fred smirked.

She looked at them pointedly.  "And what would you say if I told you I did?"


	12. Twelve

_Twelve_

Hermione was quickly becoming annoyed.  

"Ron, if you do not stop looking over my shoulder, I will hex you!"

She felt his smile and cursed the shiver that went down her spine.  "Hexing a prefect is against the rules, love.  Can't have you breaking school rules now, can we?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "I'm friends with you and Harry.  Breaking rules is in the job description."

He clicked his teeth.  "Is that all I am to you?  A friend?  Do friends do what we did in the Prefect's Bathroom last night?"

A heat rose in her cheeks as she remembered a bare-chested Ron sharing cherries with her _without_ his hands.

Her boyfriend could be damn creative when he wanted to be.

"I'm sure I could ask Harry if _he_ likes cherries," she said with a grin.

Ron backed away from her, and she nearly moaned at the loss.

"That is _not_ funny, Hermione!  Besides, he has Ginny to worry about . . ."

Hermione snorted inaudibly.

_That's what _you_ think . . ._

"Does he now?"  She dipped her quill in the inkwell before she continued to take notes.

"Yes.  And you can't go sharing cherries with any bloke, Hermione.  Yours especially belongs to me—"

The crack of a slap echoed throughout the library.  Madame Pince glared at the pair warningly.

"Pervert!" she hissed.

He frowned as he rubbed his reddened cheek.  "There was no call to slap all the magic out of me, woman!"

Hermione threw her quill down in a huff.  "_Why_ are you here, Ron?  You're not studying, you're not reading, all you're doing is annoying me!  Bugger off!" she snarled.

Ron frowned before he smirked.  Damn her traitorous body for being affected by it!

"You cursed!"  He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

"So?"

"Punishment.  You have to be punished."

She sighed and lifted her eyes to the ceiling.  "What are you . . ."

His lips were the softest things she ever felt as they pressed against hers.

There was an audible clearing of the throat, and Hermione pulled away sharply.

"This is no place for a snog session.  Out, you two, out!"

The formidable librarian thrust a wrinkled finger to the entrance.  Hermione glared at Ron before packing her things and leaving with her chin held high.  She did not look at him as she stomped up the stairs.  She only prayed they didn't change on her.

"Hermione!"

She rolled her eyes and groaned.  There was nothing he could say that would cool her ire.  This was the first time she'd _ever_ been kicked out of her sanctuary.  It wasn't as if she went and bothered _him_ at the Quidditch pitch!

"Bugger, woman!  You're too fast!"

She stopped and whirled.  He was on a set of stairs below her, and she glared.

"That is the _point,_ Ron!  I don't want to be near you at the moment!  You got me kicked out of the library!"

"So what?  I've been kicked out of there loads of times!"

She rolled her eyes again and continued up the stairs.  "You just don't get it, Ron.  The library is _my_ place, _my_ element!  I feel at peace there, just me and the books and educational bliss!"

Ron moaned.  "Who gives an arse about 'educational bliss'?!  Clearly I haven't been doing right by you."  She had just reached the seventh floor, and against her better judgment, she turned to him again.

"What do you mean, Ron?" she sighed. 

He made no reply as he climbed the rest of the stairs.  Her heart rate increased with each step he took.  Her breathing deepened, and she became rooted to the spot.  Soon they were face-to-face, mere inches separating them.  She licked her lips in anticipation.

He grinned.  "You know very well what I mean, don't you, love?"

She closed her eyes against the blue of his gaze.  She hated it when he was rightfully smug.

"Leave me alone, Ron!" she huffed and turned on her heel.  She hadn't even made a step when his arm snaked out and wrapped tightly around her waist.  She was brought flush against him.

"You know you don't want me to do that."  The voice rumbled in her ear, and she couldn't control the whimper that escaped her lips.  He chuckled lowly and nuzzled his nose against her ear.

"Ron . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Someone could see us!"

"Are you that ashamed of me, Miss Granger?"

His lips trailed kisses at the side of her neck.  Her arm reached behind her and brought his lips closer.

"I could never be ashamed of you, Ron Weasley.  Disappointed, yes.  Ashamed, never."

He spun her in the circle of his arms, and she wrapped hers around his neck.  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin.  He moaned softly and bent his head to capture her lips with his.

She would never tire of his kisses.

"Ron, we _really_ should get out of the corridor.  This is indecent!" she whispered against her lips.

He grinned.  "Not nearly as indecent as I want to get, Hermione."

She tried to step away, but his hold was too strong.  "Did I give you permission to leave?"

Hermione glared at him.  "Since when did I need your permission to do anything?"

The grin never left his face.  "Not _anything.  _Just important things, like leaving me."

She humored him.  "Will you give me permission to leave then?"

He kissed the tip of her nose.  "Not on your life."

"_Ron!_"

"No can do, Hermione.  I want to have my way with you."

She looked at him skeptically as a blush formed on her cheeks.  "What are you going to do with me?"

"Does it matter?  I promise whatever it is you're going to like it.  A lot."

He began walking her backwards, and Hermione tried to turn her head behind her.  He brought her face back to his and began to kiss her again.

"Where are we going?" she whispered against his lips.

"Somewhere."

She looked to her right and saw Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry.  To her left, she saw a door.

She gasped and slapped his shoulder.

"The Room of _Requirement_?  What _exactly_ do you need to do, Ron?" she asked, even as she felt her pulse quicken in anticipation.

"I told you already," he said with that sexy grin of his.  "I _need_ to have my way with you."

She frowned.  "I thought you said you _wanted_ to have your way with me."

He rolled his eyes.  "Want, need, it's all the same where you're concerned, Hermione."

"But—but," she stammered.

He grasped her chin gently.  "I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do, Hermione.  I would never do that."

She stared into his eyes and nodded silently.  He kissed her forehead and opened the door behind her.  There was a roaring fire inside the room and a loveseat before it.  A round table was to the right of the sofa with two chairs at it and a bowl of fruit on top of it.  A rug was also before the fireplace, and Hermione wondered if it was a soft as it looked.

"Damn."

"What?" she asked.  She could see nothing wrong with the room.

He gave her a lopsided grin.  "There's no bed."

She gaped at him before slapping his shoulder again.  "_Ron!"_

"A man can dream, can't he?"

"Yes, he can, Ron, but what's your excuse?  You're just a boy!"

He stood there shocked for a second before he let out a primal growl.  Hermione shrieked and began to run from him.

"No, you don't, you saucy wench!  I'll get you yet!"

They ran around the room before Hermione stopped behind the loveseat and Ron in front of it.

"Give up yet, 'Mione?"

"Never!" she laughed.

"I promise I don't bite . . . _too_ hard . . ."

She smirked at him, allowing her teeth to catch her bottom lip.  She saw his eyes go to her mouth, and her smirk widened.

"If you're trying to seduce me, love," he began, all the while staring at her mouth, "it's bloody working!"

She looked at him through hooded eyes.  "Good."

Ron let out a primal growl before climbing on the sofa and hooking his arm around the back of her neck.  He crushed his lips to hers, and Hermione returned the kiss with equal fervor.  To her surprise, Ron's arms left her neck to cup her bum.  She was about to chastise him when she was suddenly airborne.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched his neck tightly.

Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a wild breath of surprise.

"You feel that, Hermione?" he whispered in her ear.  "Does _that_ feel like a boy to you?"

She purred, and his eyes widened at the sound.  Her legs tightened around his waist, and he let out a hiss.

"Maybe you're just a _big_ boy . . ."

His eyes grew larger, and he began to sputter.  "Maybe!"

Hermione chuckled at his squeaked declaration.  "Put me down, Ron."

"The couch or the rug?"

She rolled her eyes.  "My _feet_ on the _floor,_ so I can walk to the _table_ and do some _work_."

Ron scowled.  "No!  No work!  Why do you think this room is here?  We haven't been together outside of classes and meals in over a month!  We need this alone time.  I miss you, 'Mione."

She smiled at him and kissed him soundly.  "You're such a lovable, considerate boyfriend, Ron!"

"That could have something to do with the girlfriend I've got . . . she gave me pointers, you know," he said with a lopsided grin.

Hermione decided to play along.  "Really now?  What did she tell you?"

Ron twisted so that he sat on the couch; he did not relinquish his hold on her.  "Well, she told me I should always cherish you above all else."

She ran her nose along his hairline.  "Even Quidditch?"

Lips caressed her chin.  "Only on certain occasions . . ."

She laughed.  "You mean not during game week."

"The Hufflepuff match was important, Hermione."

"You mean the very match in which the game lasted all of five minutes?  That match?"

"It was my first match as captain, 'Mione.  I had to make sure we started strong."

"Yes, and in the process leaving your girlfriend all alone and neglected," she pouted.

"I'm making it up now, aren't I?"

"Ron, it had been a month.  Who knows?  I could've found a strapping young man to take your place . . ."

"A strapping man like _Vicky_?"

She opened her mouth to retort but saw he had a grin on his face.  She raised her eyebrows and stared at his tie.  "Maybe."

Ron gave a bark of laughter.  "Not hardly, 'Mione.  No other bloke can get a rise out of you like I can."

She arched an eyebrow at him.  "Should that be the other way around?"  She wiggled her hips to get her point across.

His blue eyes darkened.  "You're naughty, Hermione."

"Wasn't that your aim, Ron?  To get me naughty more often."

He tilted his head as if he were deep in thought.  "Right you are, love, right you are.  Y'know, your elephantine memory comes in handy sometimes . . ."

"There go those dictionary words I've come to love," she growled, and she nipped his earlobe.

He chuckled.  "Sacrosanct."

"Hmm."

"Sublime."

"Oooh."

"Ethereal."

"More, Ron.  _More._"

"Seraphic."

"Yes!"

"Mine."

Silence.

"Ron?" 

The game changed, and the room became charged.  She pulled back and looked into his eyes.  They never strayed from hers.

"I."

"Ron, what are you doing?"

She began to shake, and he smiled gently at her.  He removed her arms from his neck and held her hands in his.  He kissed the back of her left hand.

"Love."

He kissed the back of her right hand.

"You."

The Room drifted away from her, and only Ron remained.  Her breathing was ragged, and she gripped his hands tightly.

"What?"

The question was barely audible, but she knew he heard when his smile widened slightly.

"All those words I said before . . . that's what you are to me.  Something sacred, angelic, out of this world; my _happiness_.  This is no joke, Hermione.  I do love you.  I love you something awful, something wonderful."

She closed her eyes and let the words wash over her.

_I love you._

She felt the pads of his thumbs at her cheeks.

She was crying.

He looked sad.  "I'm sorry, 'Mione.  All I ever seem to make you do is cry . . . ."

Those words; he'd said those words almost a year ago exactly.  They were two weeks shy of their very first kiss.

Two weeks shy of when she first admitted to herself she loved him.

"Providence," she whispered as she ran a gentle finger over his lips.

"What?"

"Fate."

"'Mione?"

"Veracious."

She kissed his forehead softly.

"Infallible."

Her lips moved to the tip of his nose.

"Forever."

Kiss on the right cheek.

"My."

Kiss on left cheek.

"Love."

Kiss on chin.

"For."

Nose to nose.

"You."

Mouth to mouth.

A promise sealed with a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~

Dumbledore's expression was grave as he watched the students train.  His eyes kept falling to one student in particular, a student who seemed to drift farther and farther out of reach.

"Do you think the detentions are helping anything?"

Jamilah sighed and shook her head.  "Since the beginning of term, she's been on autopilot. She's indifferent to everything.  She's gotten better in training, but she doesn't care, not like Malfoy and Weasley do."

"And Harry?"

She sucked her teeth.  "Harry's only concerned with bestin' Malfoy.  If I asked them to see who could climb Mr. Everest the fastest, Harry would do it only to beat Draco, not because it had anything to do with training."

"There's always been a bit of a friendly competition between those two," he said ironically.

"But Weasley, Weasley's strength is in distance.  She's an excellent marksman; her knife throws are always precise."

"Can any of them do wandless magic?"

Jamilah shrugged.  "Nia is the only guarantee; in fact, she's the only one I think it would be as second nature.  The only other possibility I see for wandless magic is Ginny, but hers will be limited."

"Which is why they train with Muggle weapons."

"Exactly."

He shook his head.  "All of our planning has been for naught; all of our choices have been wrong."

"Granddad, that's not fair to say."

"Isn't it?"

She shrugged.  "For me to say 'I told you so' would be a moot point, so I won't go there, but you can't blame yourself for this.  Nia was out past curfew, for which she's served detention.  With the end of fall term approaching, her detentions for her infractions against Snape are almost finished."

Dumbledore looked at the troubled teenager.  "I'm afraid for Severus, Jamilah.  The last time a Roberts woman confronted him, he went to the Dark Lord.  This confrontation, I don't know . . ."

She grabbed his arm roughly and dragged him to a secluded corner in the large room.  He looked at her with sad eyes.  "You mean to tell me he'd go back to Voldemort?  After all he knows, all he's done?"

He shook his head.  "He'll never go back to him, but . . . Severus is a proud, insecure man.  That's a bad combination.  I'm afraid he'll give up and not do _anything_."

"What does that mean?"

"He'll waste away to nothing.  We won't be able to rely on him, and we can't afford that.  Bad enough Percy's risked his family to act as a plant in the Ministry of Magic; we can't have this happen as well, and for naught, because the daughter won't talk to the father."

"If there were any other way—"

"I would've found it; _we _would've found it.  But Severus always knew something was wrong, especially by the way you treated him."

"What do you—"

"Your hostility knew no bounds when it came to him, because of something he didn't remember doing."

"He put an Imperius Curse on Johnson to rape my _daughter_.  I can't just forgive him of that, even if he had no control over his actions."

"So you think Nia calling him a rapist in front of his class was justified?"

"No!  She should've known better than to do a thing like that!"

"She should have; never in all my life have I felt such disappointment in her.  Severus's already shaky reputation was not helped by that comment."

"I'm just surprised it ain't all over the school."

"It does help she said it in Coptic.  Unfortunately for her, Severus understood what the word meant."

"We need to rein in that girl's temper.  She's liable to do serious damage."

"She's hurt, betrayed, and alone, Jamilah."

"She got me!"

"Does she?  You lied to her; we all did.  _Her mother_ did.  How can she truly trust anyone when her life has been one secret after another?  How would you feel if you were the child of a rape, Jamilah?  That the father you loved was the person who caused it?  It's not a revelation one takes lightly."

Jamilah said nothing.  He sighed and watched the students again.  Draco and Ginny were doing their routines with the bo stick, both sharing flirtatious glances each time their weapons collided.  Harry was breathing heavily from his parrying of the swords.  Nia wasn't even sweating, so automatic were her movements.  She looked like those things Muggles called robots.

"Christmas holiday begins next week.  I think it best for her to stay at Hogwarts."

"To talk with Severus."

"And to keep her away from Caleb.  He is not her favorite person in the world right now."

"But Angelina will want to see her sister; they haven't spoken in months."

"And how is this different from the three years they didn't have contact with one another?"

"It's different now.  There are no long-distance telephone charges I have to deal with anymore!"

He chuckled.  "Then she could visit Nia here.  The child needs a bit of happiness in her life . . ."

Jamilah heard the change in his tone.  "Granddad . . ."

"This is all my fault," he sighed, rubbing a hand wearily across his face.

"Don't say that . . ."

"No, Jamilah, it is.  This is the third time my actions have caused one of these children to lose someone they love.  First Ginny with Percy, then Harry with Sirius, and now Nia with Severus.  Sometimes I think I'm not fit for this job."

"You are, Granddad.  Savin' the world was never gonna be easy; it comes with sacrifices, as you said before."

He chuckled shortly.  "Perhaps I should stop calling them 'children.'  Their life experiences are anything but what a normal child has seen."

"They are the Chosen . . ."

"Bollocks to that!"

Jamilah hugged his left arm, and he dropped his head.  He knew coming into this it would be hard, but he never realized the effects this endeavor would have on the students, especially Nia.  Her entire foundation had been rocked, and instead of finding solace in Hogwarts as Harry, Ginny and Draco had done, all Nia had found was lies, betrayal, and hurt.

"She needs to know the entire truth, Jamilah," he said finally.

"Don't she know it already?  She knows how she came into being."

"But that is not the entire truth."

"What—"

"AARGH!"

Their heads whipped to see Harry drop his weapon with a clank and sink to the ground in pain.  Nia was staring at the blade that was coated with Harry's blood on it before she, too, dropped the weapon.  Jamilah began to assist them when his hand stayed her.

"Granddad!  What are you doin'?  The boy needs help."

"This will happen in battle, love.  We need to see if they know what to do if the situation arises."

By now all three of them were surrounding Harry.  Draco placed a comforting arm around a badly shaking Nia, while Ginny lightly touched the gash on Harry's arm.  There was a hiss from the dark-haired boy at the contact.

"Sorry," Ginny whispered.

"I need to go to the hospital wing," he said through clenched teeth.

Ginny shook her head.  "No, you don't."

She placed her palm over the gash.  "_Paxre__0wwqe_ _swtf__ kex."_

A scarlet light radiated from her hands and onto Harry's wound.  Everyone was breathless by the display.  A few moments went by, and Ginny lifted her hands.  

The wound was gone.

"_Bloody hell!_" Harry exclaimed.

"Ginger?"  Draco asked, taking a step back from her.  Ginny stood slowly, clasping her hands together and resting her chin on top of them.

Nia approached the other girl slowly. 

Ginny smiled softly.  "Did you understand what I was saying?"

"Yes!  You said heal wound, purify arm."

"It's the language of the gods."

Dumbledore saw Nia's eyes widen with understanding.

"It's time.  She has to know," Dumbledore said to Jamilah.

"What about Ginny?"

"Ginny knows already, and I daresay Draco does as well.  They found the room."

"How?  I thought—"

"They've unlocked the magic already, as seen by Ginny's marvelous display of healing powers."

"Then why could Nia show hers?"

"Nia's just a more powerful entity; she's a direct descendant.  The other three had their essences artificially placed within mortals; it takes more time and more training to manifest it fully."

"Right.  Are you going to tell her then?" Jamilah asked.

"No.  It's too soon for her to know the details, but Severus needs to know; I'll tell him the truth."

"What do you mean?  I though he knew already!"

"Did you miss the look of shock that passed over Severus's face?  He had no more knowledge of the truth than Nia did."

"But he was there!  He cast the spell—"

"He doesn't remember doing that."

"What?"

He sighed.  "I removed his memory.  He would've never forgiven himself if he remembered what he did.  He would've never forgiven me for making him do it."

She gasped, and he gave a mirthless smile.  "Ah, you've figured it out, love.  Severus is no less a pawn than Caleb is.  If anyone's the 'rapist,' it is I."


	13. Thirteen

_Thirteen_

Ron felt warm, really warm. It was such a wonderful feeling, and he snuggled closer to it as if trying to make it envelop him whole. As he burrowed his head, he realized the warmth had a spongy aspect to it—on either side of his head. An eye popped open.

_Since when did my pillow wear a bra?_

He sucked in a wild breath of surprise and lifted his head quickly. There was Hermione, eyes closed in what looked like a peaceful sleep. The buttons of her blouse had come undone to show flesh that met the silk of her bra.

The fabric around his crotch all of a sudden became unbearably tight.

"_Dear Merlin!_"

He lifted himself off her gently so not to awaken her. He looked around the room wildly and noticed they were not in the Gryffindor common room, for which he was glad.

_Then where the bloody hell are we?_

The room looked familiar, and it took him a few seconds to realize it was the Room of Requirement. A half-grin formed on his face. They'd taken to coming to this room at least once a week for some alone time, and each time the kisses became more passionate, the touches more daring, and the declarations of love more meaningful.

_Hermione Jane Granger loves _me! ME!

He knew he had a stupid grin on his face, but he didn't care. It wasn't as if they were missed. Harry and Ginny were off at all hours of the night most nights as it was, and the rest of the Tower went home for Christmas holiday. He was glad he didn't go home; he didn't think he could deal with another Christmas watching his mother cry over Percy.

His grin turned into a scowl at the name. Percy wouldn't know right from wrong if it bit him in the arse. How could that stupid git _still_ work for Fudge even after knowing You-Know-Who was back? Ron felt that was the ultimate betrayal.

He sighed. He didn't want to think about Percy now, not when he had more pleasant things to think about.

He rose from the sofa only to kneel beside it, his face hovering over Hermione's as she slept. He brushed strands of her hair from her face and caressed her temples lazily. Ron really didn't need anything else for Christmas; her love was enough of a gift to last a lifetime.

He kissed her forehead. "I love you, 'Mione," he murmured against her skin. A small smile played at her lips, and she shifted her body towards him, though still asleep. Ron wondered what time it was and how long they'd been in the room. Their robes were on the floor, and he looked in the pockets to find his watch. It was 7:30 am.

_I'm actually up before noon voluntarily . . . _there's_ a first!_

He froze; they'd spent an entire night together. His cheeks turned red.

_Dear Merlin, I hope I didn't drool on her!_

He moved his head to her chest to look for any saliva; then he blushed even redder.

_I _really_ hope 'Mione doesn't wake up and catch me in this rather _compromising_ position! She'd have my head for it!_

He glanced up to her face and breathed a sigh of relief to find she was still sleeping. His eyes went to her chest again, and he decided to button up her blouse, just in case she got the wrong idea.

His hands shook badly as he began his chore. He buttoned the first one without so much a stir from her. He closed his eyes and thanked the gods for small miracles as he moved to the second button. Success.

_One more . . . I only have one more to go . . ._

His hands held the third button.

_THWACK!_

"_Bloody hell!"_

"Ron! What do you think you're _doing?!_"

He'd fallen to his bum from the force of her slap, and he shook his hands to relieve their stinging.

He glared at Hermione. "Bugger, woman, you have some juice in your slap!"

She shot up and stared at him angrily. "What were you trying to do?"

"Button your top! They were undone!"

"And _why_ were they undone, Ron?"

"I don't know! I woke up and they were like that. I didn't know you wore red underwear, love; I think it's kind of sexy," he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

Hermione blushed madly even as she glowered. She humphed and looked at her blouse.

A bubble of laughter came forth.

"What?" Ron frowned at her sudden change of mood. "What's so funny?"

"It seems you were staring at the underwear instead of the buttons, Ron," she grinned. Hermione lifted her head and showed him her blouse. The buttons were off by one.

He cracked a grin. "To be quite honest, I was trying to figure out a way to get a more up close and personal look at what was _under_ the 'underwear' . . ."

"RON!"

"I told you, you had beautiful breasts, Hermione. They're all nice and soft—"

The pillow hurt something terrible as it collided with the side of his head.

"As I was saying," he continued as he glared at the sofa cushion, "_your _pillows are a great deal softer than _these . . ._"

"_Un_believable!"

"I know it is, 'Mione. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact you love me."

The mouth she opened to snarl what he knew to be an insult transformed into a shy smile.

"Ron . . ."

He smiled and crawled to her. He spread her legs apart and kneeled between them; his head level with her chest. He undid her mismatched buttons and redid them correctly, all the while staring into her eyes. Her hands came up to grasp his, and she brought them to her lips, kissing the backs of them softly. Ron moaned and quickly put her lips to his, relishing in her taste. She wrapped her arms around his neck to draw him closer to her. His tongue pressed against hers, demanding an entrance she willingly granted. The rough texture of her tongue sent tingles of pleasure throughout his body, and he shook.

She pulled back a bit. "Are you cold, Ron?"

He shook his head. "You're the warmest thing on earth, Hermione. I'm never cold around you."

She gave him a most beautiful smile and kissed his nose. "What time is it?"

"7:30."

She frowned. "That's impossible, Ron! We walked out with Ginny and Harry which means that _had_ to have been well after eight o'clock . . ."

Her eyes widened at the implication, and Ron tried to dampen his grin.

"RON!"

"Yes, love?"

She smacked his shoulder in embarrassment and frustration. "We spent the night together?"

He tried to look disappointed. "And what a waste that was, we didn't even get to have a little slap and tickle . . ."

She slapped his shoulder double time. "How could you _say _a thing like that?!"

"I'm just teasing you, Hermione; lighten up!"

Her eyes went wild. "Lighten up? Lighten up! I've practically turned into one of those—those _scarlet women!_"

Ron laughed. "Hermione! Don't be ridi—"

"Your mum's going to think me as such _again_, sleeping with her baby boy!"

"And that's exactly _all we did_, though I wouldn't have minded a bit more."

She slapped his shoulder again before shoving him away from her. She hurriedly put on her tie and jumper and searched between the two robes. Ron merely reclined against the couch, his hands behind his head.

"What's the hurry, love?"

"We need to get out of here, Ron! We never went back to the Tower!"

"So what? Everyone went home except for Harry and Ginny," he reminded her.

Her frantic movements slowed. "That's right. Wonder where they've been for the past few weeks. I'm sure extra lessons don't last _that_ long . . ."

Ron's playful mood disappeared. "What?"

She stopped moving all together. "Ron . . ."

"Be careful what you're implying, Hermione. That's my sister and my best friend you're talking about."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "_You're_ the one who's so quick to think of that, Ron. I'm just concerned for them; that's all. Haven't you noticed Dark activity's been rather quiet this past year? Harry's scar hasn't given him a problem _once_."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You have a point there, Hermione."

"And Ginny's just about the best student he had in the DA . . . Do you think they're doing some undercover work? You know; a hidden attack or something with the Order?"

His frown deepened. "Y'mean without us?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "It's a definite possibility. You know Harry's reluctant to tell us things that bother him . . ."

"But that doesn't mean he needs to drag my _sister_ into it!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Knowing Ginny, she probably marched right into it herself. She didn't seem the least bit concerned about being Malfoy's patrolling partner, remember?"

Ron's brain searched back to that prefects' meeting nearly three months ago. He remembered being so full of rage he thought his head would pop off, and that _sickening_ wink the ferret gave him was enough to drive him nutters. But now he remembered glancing at Ginny and her reaction to the list.

_She was grinning!_

"DAMMIT, MALFOY!" He jumped from the floor and began to stomp to the door. Hermione was quicker and pressed her back against the door before he could open it.

"Ron! Ron, calm down!"

"Calm _down?_ Is something going on between my sister and that wanker?"

Hermione's eyes looked everywhere but at him. "I'm—I'm not sure . . ."

"But you have a sneaking suspicion, don't you?" His head was bobbing up and down as he spoke.

She glared at him. "Unlike you, Ron, I know to trust Ginny's judgment."

"Not if it involves Malfoy! I'll _bet_ he used an Imperius Curse on her . . ."

He reached for the doorknob, but she slapped his hand away. "Listen to me, Ron. You will _not_ create a scene; do you hear me? You'll let Ginny tell you whatever she wants to on her _own_ _terms_ at her _own time_. Don't force her into a situation!"

"Are _you_ telling _me_ how to treat my _own sister?_"

Hermione did not budge. "Yes, I am, Ron! You need to cool down, or _you'll_ be on the receiving end of a Bat-Bogey Hex!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but then it changed into a smile. "That _was _a rather good hex . . ."

Hermione grinned. "I'm sure it was, Ron."

He looked up at the ceiling and began to laugh. "I'm such a daft git. I can't believe I would think _Malfoy_ and my sister had a thing going on! Like you said, she and _Harry_ have been out at all hours of the night for _weeks . . ._"

Hermione's laugh sounded forced to his ears, and he stopped.

_All hours of the night?_

Silence.

"DAMMIT, HARRY!"

He reached for the door, only to have his hand slapped away again.

"Bugger, woman! What's it with you slapping me?!"

"Ronald Weasley, what are you about to do?"

"I'm _about_ to rip Harry a new one!"

"He is your best friend!"

"A best friend who _lied_ about dating my sister! Why couldn't he just tell me, Hermione?"

"Perhaps he knew you'd go nutters at the news, Ron," she said dryly as she crossed her arms before her. "Wonder where he'd get an idea like that?"

"I don't know! I'm hurt!"

"What?"

"I'm happy for them! I'll have to say though it's a long time coming . . ."

The look on Hermione's face was nothing short of priceless. He kissed her gaping mouth closed.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Do I seem the kidding kind?"

She gave him an incredulous look.

"I'm not kidding this time, love. I got to find Harry. He's in for one serious ribbing . . ."

He tried to open the door, and she slapped his hand.

"Why did you hit me _this_ time?" he asked exasperatedly.

She tilted her head towards the fireplace. "Your _clothes?_"

He looked down and noticed he was only in his t-shirt and trousers. "Right," he said sheepishly. He put on his shirt, tie, jumper and shoes and draped his robe over his arm. He approached Hermione and intertwined her fingers with his. She smiled, and he followed suit, kissing the back of her hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

He squeezed her hand. "I hope you know the only reason I'm holding your hand is so you don't slap mine . . ."

Not that it mattered to Hermione; there were other places well within her reach.

"Sometimes I wish you weren't so clever," he muttered as they left the room. His left bicep was stinging from her blow. The door disappeared behind them, and she smirked.

"But, Ron, if I wasn't so clever, how would you pass your classes?"

Ron gave her a dry look. "Too bad you're not as witty as you are clever, love."

She scoffed. "Let's not be sore, Ron."

He mimicked her comment silently and received a pinch for his efforts. "I really don't appreciate abusing this beautiful body, love."

Hermione looked before him and behind him as if she was trying to find something.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?"

"I'm trying to find something," she said distractedly.

"What?"

"This beautiful body you claim to have . . ."

He scowled and brought her body roughly to his. "You don't have a monopoly on beauty, love. _We_ have a monopoly on beauty . . ."

She snuggled next to him as they got to the portrait. "Another dictionary word . . . you're so sexy when you use them . . ."

He grinned down at her. "Then you'll be really turned on to hear I've started using a thesaurus as well . . ."

Ron kissed her temple, and she purred. "Oh, the possibilities . . ."

He laughed the password to the Fat Lady, and the portrait door opened. Ron stopped dead at the sight before him.

There was Ginny on top of Harry's lap, sleeping with her head on his chest under his chin. Harry's back rested against the couch on the floor, and he cradled her even in sleep. They seemed to have spent the night in that position. A gamut of emotions went through him. The most prominent was mischievousness.

"What are you about to do?" Hermione whispered warily. He smirked at her and put a finger to her lips to make her be quiet.

Ron crept to the sleeping couple until his mouth was close to Harry's ear. No sooner had he opened his mouth than a fist connected very well with his nose.

"DAMMIT!"

"Shit!"

"Ron?"

"Nothing less than you deserve!"

Ron rolled his eyes and fell to his back as he held his throbbing nose. A sticky substance coated his hands, and belatedly he realized it was blood.

_Just _peachy!__

"I'm _so sorry, _mate! It was a reflex!" Harry said frantically.

"What were you trying to do, Ron?" Ginny asked. Both were on either side of him, and Hermione knelt above his head.

"He was trying to startle you awake," Hermione said dryly. "I'm glad you gave him a good sock, Harry. He shouldn't do that to people."

Ron would've glared at her if his nose didn't hurt so badly.

"Move your hands, Ron; I'm going to mend it," Ginny said as she took his hands in hers. Ron frowned at the statement and at her hands going over his nose.

"Binny?" he asked, his voice incoherent.

"_0a snof 0wr paxre._"

Ron's eyes widened as a red light shone from her hands. It tickled his nose, and he wanted to laugh. Very quickly the light faded, and with it so did the pain.

He wiggled his nose and looked at her, flabbergasted. "Blimey, Gin! What did you do to me?" He gingerly touched his nose to examine her handiwork. His nose was as if it'd never been hit.

"I healed you," she said with nonchalance.

He looked at Hermione who stared at her with fascination. "Dear God, Ginny! You used wandless magic, and it worked! What language were you speaking? It's definitely not Latin! Could you teach me how?"

Ginny and Harry shared a decidedly cautious look, and Ron decided to ask them a question they'd be more inclined to answer.

"Why was Ginny in your lap, Harry?"

_Well, maybe not _more _inclined, but unavoidable nonetheless!_

"Ah . . . well . . . you see it's like this . . ." Harry drawled.

"I had a bad dream, and he comforted me," Ginny replied, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Hermione frowned. "How would he know about you having a bad dream if you're in the girls' dormitories?"

Ginny blushed a bit. "Actually, I feel asleep during tra—extra lessons, and Harry carried me upstairs—"

"You _carried_ her up _seven flights of stairs?_" Ron breathed.

Hermione scoffed. "Of course not, Ron! He used a levitation charm!"

The look on Harry's face told Ron otherwise. "Harry . . ."

Harry turned pink and shrugged as he shook his head. "Well, I mean, she's not all that heavy . . ."

While it was true Ginny wasn't Professor Umbridge, she was hardly light as a feather.

"What do they have you _doing_ down there?" Ron asked suddenly. He'd noticed Harry gain some muscle over the fall term, but chalked it up to Quidditch; now he wasn't so sure.

"All sorts of things, mainly running and weight lifting," Ginny said vaguely.

"The Muggle way?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, any other way would defeat the purpose!" Harry teased good-naturedly.

Hermione gave him a sarcastic look, and Ron grinned. "Anyway, tell me about this dream, Gin. What disturbed you so that you woke up in Harry's arms?"

Harry blushed again, and Ginny glared at him. "_Ron!_"

"It's just a simple question, Gin." He shrugged.

"Simple, my arse . . ."

"Ginevra Molly Weasley! You shall _not_ curse!"

"Who died and made you Mum?"

Ron looked indignant. "You dare sass me?"

"I can re-break that nose, Ron."

He turned red and glared at a snickering Harry. "Just answer the question, Gin!"

She sighed heavily. "_Fine . . . _I remember walking through Hogsmeade, and I heard noises coming from the Shrieking Shack. I was supposed to be patrolling with Malfoy, but I didn't know where he was. I thought maybe it was a lost student or something, so I went inside to see what was wrong. As soon as I stepped inside, I was grabbed, gagged, and blindfolded. I was kicking and screaming vainly, but their grip was too tight . . . too strong . . ."

Ron watched as Harry squeezed the shoulders of a visibly shaking Ginny. His hand went to grasp Hermione's, almost as an automatic action.

"Go on . . ." he urged.

Ginny nodded and continued. "Obviously I didn't know where I was going because I was blindfolded, but I had the idea I was going deeper and deeper underground because the natural light was getting dimmer. There was whispering, and then a hiss of a door, and apparently we walked through it. Through my blindfold, I could tell there was light again, and then the blindfold was taken off of me. I gasped sharply at the sight of men in masks . . . Death Eaters, I'm assuming . . ."

Ron's grip on Hermione's hand tightened, and he saw her glance at him out the corner of his eye.

"What else?"

She closed her eyes. "It was a dark, candlelit room and a simple black gurney in the center of the room, elevated to the Death Eaters' waists. Then I became so terrified. On the ceiling was a mirror, and there were straps on the gurney. I knew immediately what was going to happen."

Ron shook his head in denial. "No . . ."

Ginny nodded sadly. "They shoved me to the center of the room. I fought them as best I knew how, but they'd already taken my wand. I used some of the moves I was taught in the extra lessons with Professor Roberts, but it was to no avail. They used a mild stunning charm on me, which left me slow as molasses; I couldn't so much as lift my arm without it feeling like lead. The men around me snickered as they strapped me down—wrists and ankles bound. My legs were spread eagle, and my arms were in a Y shape over my head. I'd never felt so exposed, and I wasn't even naked; not yet anyway . . ."

"Naked?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Yet?" Ron's voice was hoarse.

Ginny's trembles became more violent, and her bottom lip quivered with the effort not to cry.

"You don't have to finish, Gin . . . we'll all understand if you don't want to finish," Harry reassured her, but she shook her head.

"No, Harry. This is important. I think . . . I think I should tell you the rest of it."

Hermione wrapped her left arm around herself. Ron situated himself to allow her back to lean against his front between his legs.

"This is a horrible dream, Ginny . . ." Hermione murmured. Ron placed a tender kiss to the top of her head, and Hermione squeezed his forearms.

Ginny closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing in distress. "They began chanting, chanting in Coptic . . . _jpo keke ta ebh . . . jpo keke ta ebh . . ."_

Ron shook his head in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Ginny replied without opening her eyes. "It means 'beget child toward darkness,' or have a child of darkness. They wanted me to produce an heir."

"No bloody way!" Ron exclaimed. "And where was Malfoy? He's supposed to be with you at all times."

Ginny whimpered, and Ron's ire began to rise. "Malfoy . . . he _was_ there . . ."

Ron's voice was dangerously low. "And what was he doing?"

She choked back a sob. "He—he was undressing me . . ."

Ron tensed to rise, but Hermione pushed his legs back down around her.

"He had a vacant look in his eyes as he did it, as if he couldn't see me, but I knew he could. His eyes flickered every time they met mine; I knew he knew I was there. Finally, I was totally nude. He ran his hands over my body, coated with some oil. No doubt it was special to the ritual; it was myrrh. The caress was so soft, I whimpered. It was as if he was trying to be gentle in the violent act he was doing . . . such an oxymoron . . . but then again, Malfoy was always such a thing; to me at least . . ."

Ron's eyes furrowed at the implication.

_What did _that_ mean?_

"I thought it was odd to be using myrrh, for Nia told me that was the principle ingredient in holy anointing oil for kings and other holy beings in Christianity. It was a sacred element, and it was being used for this? I was angry, and I began to thrash and scream again, angry they were calling this violation a holy thing, a _good_ thing . . . but it was to no avail. I was making my voice and bound parts raw, and they laughed at me. They _laughed_ at me. I wanted to cry, but I didn't; there was nothing they could do to make me cry, I vowed to myself. At least there wasn't until what happened next . . ."

Ginny's voice faded as she controlled her sob. Harry ran his hands up and down in a comforting action, but to Ron that only seemed to make her more agitated.

"Harry, stop touching her!"

The dark-haired boy looked at him confusedly. "What?"

"Trust me, mate. Don't touch her, not yet anyway . . ."

Harry began to pull his arms away, but Ginny stopped him. "No!" She swallowed thickly. "No, Ron. I don't want to feel alone right now . . ."

Harry looked to Ron for permission, and he reluctantly nodded. "Go ahead, Harry."

His arms went back around Ginny, but he didn't move them this time.

She took a deep breath and began to speak again. "Malfoy moved away from me; his eyes looked sad almost, and I was torn from wanting to break him and wanting to mend him. It seemed to me he didn't want to do this, but his father was a senior Death Eater; he had no choice, right?"

Ron barely contained a snort. He thought—no, he _knew—_it was Malfoy Junior's dream to follow in his git father's footsteps.__

_Bloody wanker._

"Well, that's what I told myself as this entire process went on . . . there was no way he'd throw away all the trust I'd put in him, no bloody way. But then I saw Harry walk inside, the same blank look in his eyes, and I knew it was my worst nightmare coming to life."

"Dear God, Ginny, don't say," Hermione began, her own voice growing thick. Harry clenched his eyes and jaw shut, and Ron felt an unnatural hatred toward his best friend.

"He didn't, Gin . . . no . . ." Ron chanted vainly.

"He was wearing a Death Eater robe, Harry was, and his glasses were on his face. Sick, sadistic bastards! Making us watch each other. Me naked and spread like a dinner setting, and he about to watch himself—I cried then. Harry didn't move much, and they took off his robe. He was just as naked as I, and they were making fun of his . . . uh, well . . . you know . . ."

Ron would've laughed if the conversation wasn't so heavy.

"They tilted the gurney back to lie flat, and I saw myself in the mirror above me. I stared at it blankly until Harry's vacant face and eyes came into my view. It was such a mechanical process, and the lack of emotion hurt my heart the most. Harry just climbed on top of me and did his thing. I tried to turn my head away, but he put his hands on either side of my head and forced me to look at him, to look into those eyes that didn't look so dead. It was as if he was trying to apologize even as he rutted me like an animal. The Death Eaters around us jeered and cheered, saying how my 'hero' wasn't being very 'heroic' now . . . and then it was over."

There was silence for a while.

Ron moved his mouth a bit before sound could come out. "Is—is that all?" When Ginny shook her head, his heart fell to his stomach.

_How could she dream all of this? Why didn't she wake herself up before all of this happened? How could this happen to _my_ sister? _Could_ this happen to Ginny?_

"I squeezed my eyes shut as Harry, uh, finished. I heard one of them say 'Open your eyes, wench!' I did so slowly, because I didn't want to, but I was afraid if I didn't, they'd stick someone else on me, and I couldn't bear that . . .when I did, the eyes weren't green anymore; they were brown and not behind glasses. The skin around the eyes wasn't white anymore; it was black. I frowned and immediately thought someone else had mounted me, but I didn't feel Harry leave, so I knew that was impossible. The body moved farther away from me, and I yelped. It was Angelina's father who was atop me . . ."

"_WHAT!_" Ron bellowed. This dream was getting more and more disturbing, and he couldn't help but think had he dreamt it, he probably would've found Harry too.

_Well, maybe not to cuddle with, but definitely to calm me down . . ._

"I closed my eyes again, and I was ordered to open them again. Once I did, the first thing I realized when I looked in the overhead mirror was my hair wasn't red. It was black and short instead of long and red. My eyes widened, and I saw they were golden, and they stared at the reflected dark-skinned body in fascination and disgust. Then I knew—I was no longer Ginny Weasley; I was Nia's mother. I don't know how I figured it out, but I instinctively _knew_ I was her mother. I began to weep again. This was how Nia was conceived. I _knew_ it was. The dream had changed from the future to the past, and my heart broke. My heart broke for her, for her mother, for _me . . ._the sobs would not stop as the gurney tilted up to the original position."

Ron's heart broke as well, and he felt guilty and sad. Sad for the Johnsons, and sad for Nia because of the position her parents were put in. He was almost afraid to ask the question on his mind. "What happened . . . next?"

"I continued to look at the ceiling because I couldn't bear to see the Death Eaters, even if they were in masks, but they weren't having that. They threatened to physically move my head down if I didn't do it myself. I didn't want the vile men touching me again, so I did it myself. When my eyes came down, the first sight I saw made me throw up over myself, so disgusted and betrayed I felt . . ."

Ron shuddered at the mental image that evoked. "Malfoy's ugly mug would make anyone blow chunks."

Ginny's laugh was half strangled and half genuine. "Well, it wasn't Malfoy, though I imagine I would've reacted the same way _had_ it been myself who saw Malfoy at the time. But remember, I'm Nia's mother now."

Ron nodded, but this was the second time Ginny hinted something about Malfoy that made him uneasy.

"Who was it, Gin? Who did Nia's mother see?" Hermione asked gently.

Ginny shivered, and Harry's arms tightened around her. "Remember how I described Draco's eyes? Eyes that were blank unless they looked into mine? Those gray eyes from before were now black."

Hermione gasped. "_Him?_"

Ron hadn't figured out the "him" yet. Harry seemed just as oblivious as he was.

"Who?"

Ginny's voice lowered to a whisper. "It was . . . it was Professor Snape."

Armageddon could've happened outside, and the four of them would not have registered it.

"What?" Harry asked. His voice was low and very threatening, so much so it scared Ron a little bit.

"Harry?" he asked cautiously.

"He—he _did_ that to her? To Nia's mother?"

Harry's voice was growing louder and wilder. Hermione left Ron's arms to calm Harry down.

"Harry, it's okay. Nia's fine . . ."

"No thanks to him!"

Ron couldn't remember seeing Harry so angry, and definitely not at Snape. He suddenly had a thought.

"Gin . . . you—you don't think, you don't think your dream was a look into the future, do you?"

She looked at him with troubled eyes, and his own ire rose. "If I saw the past with Nia's mother, who's to say what I saw with me wasn't the future?"

Ron locked eyes with Harry, and it seemed one thought went through their minds at the same time.

"I'll kill him."


	14. Fourteen

_Fourteen_

The sound of a shattering glass echoed throughout the chamber, the white liquid meandering down the stone wall in lazy drips. Chairs turned over, papers strewn everywhere, ornaments broken—it was as if a hurricane ripped through the room. The "eye" of it looked around wildly, his body shaking madly from rage and exhaustion.

There was nothing else to destroy.

He whimpered pathetically and fell to his knees, bending over to place his elbows on the floor. He laid his head on his arms and cried.

"Malika . . . Malika, I'm so sorry . . ."

Two hours ago Dumbledore explained everything to him, or rather showed him a memory.

_His_ memory.

He winced and moaned at the memory of her naked and bound to that gurney with all those Death Eaters there, staring at her, lusting after her, frustrated they couldn't _have_ her.

But what really got him were her eyes.

Those golden eyes, usually filled with love for him were full of nothingness—dead. He killed her spirit that night, and he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself, despite Dumbledore's orders to do so.

_Easier said than done._

So what if it was done for the greater good? He had to betray the one woman he loved because _Fate_ said so.

As far as he was concerned, Fate could've fucked herself.

He groaned and began to crawl towards the back of the couch, and he leaned his back against it. It was the one thing in the room not in disarray, and for that he was grateful. Never had he felt so tired, so alone, so unwanted.

"Nia . . ."

She wasn't speaking to him at the moment, well, actually the entire term.

_Has it really been that long?_

Apparently it had. From the first week to September to the third week of December, barely five words had been exchanged, and at least one of them happened in class.

_Oua 0lqom_

She called him a rapist.

He'd forgotten he had a working knowledge of Ancient Egyptian language, but that word came crashing down on him as soon as she said it.

It was the same word Malika called him when she first realized what he was about to do. It became a rapier and sliced his heart with each thrust Johnson made. Not full out stabs, for that would be a quick and easy death, but slow, tiny cuts that dripped his anguish and sorrow until his insides became a reservoir of grief.

He was sure Malika had an entire ocean of it.

The fact the group had a _mirror_ for her to watch was beyond sick, but he could at least be grateful no one was allowed to touch her.

After all, she _was_ supposed to be producing a new heir for the Dark Lord.

_Yeah, right._

Malika could no more conceive the spawn of evil than he could, and Dumbledore told him to find comfort in that knowledge.

But it concerned the woman he loved, and the daughter who should've been his.

Instead Nia was Johnson's, the unfortunate bloke who had to actually do the deed. He didn't know which position was worse—being in his shoes or being in Johnson's. He snorted and shook his head.

_My position was definitely worse._

At least Johnson's touches could have put her mind somewhat at ease, but all he could do was sit there and watch her die over and over again. The Death Eaters weren't allowed to move, weren't allowed to touch the "vessel of the cause." To do so would bring Voldemort's wrath, and the general consensus was an ambiguously dead Voldemort was far more terrifying than a definitely live one. But he could _feel_ the lecherous thoughts about Malika, especially Avery's. The racist pig lusted after his Malika so much it was all he could do not to draw his wand and AK him out the room. But as he rubbed the myrrh onto her body, he remembered something else, something he wished he never forgot.

_0nxth_

She had compassion for _him._

The revelation astounded him and made him grieve all the more.

There she was, subjected to the most heinous of violations of her person, and she had compassion for _him_?

She was always such an easy person for him to read and vice versa.

Malika was not a Legilimens by any means, but to her, he'd always been an open book. He tried not to make eye contact with her, but he realized eye contact was not necessary where she was concerned. But his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to hers as he ran his hands reverently over her body. Her flesh quivered under his touch, and it was all he could do not to throw his head on her chest and weep for forgiveness. But he had to be strong; he had to act like she was just another darkie bitch who, oddly enough, was the key to Voldemort's return and immortal rule. The feelings of betrayal were there the entire time, but her compassion for him far outweighed anything she was feeling, and that humbled him and made him hate himself even more.

All the other Death Eaters cheered with each audible proof of suffering she made, but for him he withered. For him there was no reason to cheer. He cursed himself for being weak, for not saying no when Dumbledore proposed this plan. Johnson and Malika had no idea beforehand; they went in cold. It was not like the Order to keep secrets from one another, but in order for the deception to work, only a few could know the details.

He hated keeping Malika in the dark.

He _hated_ being the reason she was in the gurney in the first place.

Most of all he hated there was no other way.

Why did Nia have to be born from chaos and despair? Why couldn't Malika have a child born of love not of deception?

_Why couldn't I be the father of her child?_

Johnson didn't understand the gift he received that night; he still didn't in a way. Johnson already met the woman of his dreams, already had a daughter by her, and yet had to betray his wife in order to produce an heiress who would save the world.

He rolled his eyes. This plot sounded like something from a bad Muggle movie.

_It's bad all right; just that it's my _life.

He remembered the half regretful, half justified look Dumbledore gave him as he returned the memories. Never had he felt such hatred toward the older man. It wasn't as if Dumbledore drugged _him_ as he drugged Johnson. Dumbledore appealed to his darker sensibilities.

Blackmail.

He chuckled hollowly. This would not have been the first time he'd thought Dumbledore was actually a Slytherin in disguise.

Dumbledore knew he'd never agree to do such a thing willingly, especially after turning spy for the Order. But Dumbledore _also_ knew he'd do anything to stay out of Azkaban.

_Never let it be said Dumbledore didn't know how to get what he wanted._

Azkaban meant no Malika, and no Malika was unacceptable. He'd tried two years to live without her, and he ended up a Death Eater; if that wasn't indication enough of how miserable he'd be without her, he didn't know what was. Of course he knew kidnapping Malika and forcing her into a baby machine wouldn't bode well for a chance at reconciliation, but it was far easier to explain things in person than behind bars guarded by Dementors. He sighed, depressed.

_Back at square one . . ._

He could feel a migraine coming.

"Stop wallowing, _Snivellus._ It's highly unbecoming of you."

_And it speaks._

"Go away, Black. I'm in no mood to hear your gloating."

The other man snorted humorlessly. "Would you believe I'm in no mood to hear it either? I came to help."

Severus snapped his head up, amazingly sure he was in a bad dream.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Sirius Black?"

Sirius chuckled at Severus's disbelief. "I don't blame you for not trusting me. Would it make you feel better to know I'm not doing this for you?"

"Much."

"Believe me, if helping that little girl meant _not_ helping you, I'd be all for it, but it doesn't. I have to help you before Nia has any hope of becoming better."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the man. "What do you mean?"

Sirius smirked. "You're not blind, and as stupid as you look, you're not even _that_ daft."

Severus's defenses went up immediately. "What's your point, Black?"

"Nia is to you what Harry is to me—an opportunity to set things right."

"Set things right?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Maybe you _are_ as dumb as you look. If that's the case, Crabbe is a Merlin compared to you . . ."

"If you're here to insult me, you can find whatever grave you crawled out of and make camp there."

"Need I remind you _you're_ the one who brought me back?"

"I can surely rectify the situation if need be."

Sirius merely shook his head. "_Snivellus, Snivellus, Snivellus . . ._"

"Black the Whack."

Sirius chuckled. "You haven't called me that in years."

"Well, this Christmas seems to be one of memories . . ."

To his surprise, Sirius took a seat next to him and leaned his own back and head against the couch. Neither man said anything for a while.

"It was you. It had always been you . . ."

Severus looked at the man beside him. Sirius's eyes were closed, and his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He knew whom Sirius's was talking about, but he wanted to hear confirmation.

"Who?"

A corner of the man's mouth lifted. "Leka. Even when we began dating, it had always been you. I hated you even more because of that."

Severus felt his blood boil at the mention of Malika and Sirius's two and a half year courtship.

"Why are you telling me this, Black?"

"So you can understand . . . it took me almost ten years to figure it out . . ."

"Figure out what, Black?"

"Christmas . . . James and Lily only had one with their son . . . I remember it like it was yesterday."

Severus wondered briefly what this had to do with anything, but he kept his mouth closed.

"Harry was five months old, barely able to lift his head, but oh he was a handsome devil; looked just like his daddy but had eyes like his mum . . . I'd never seen James so happy as he was with his wife and son, and I wanted to have the same."

Severus gave an impatient sigh, and Sirius glared at him.

"Continue," Severus said dryly.

Sirius cast him another dark look before doing so. "Remus couldn't make it because there was a full moon during the beginning of the week, so he was coming for New Year's. Malika came with me, and we spent that holiday at Godric's Hollow. Oh, we had a grand old time; Malika and Lily sang Muggle Christmas carols as they baked cookies and Christmas dinner—Malika made candied yams to _die_ for . . ."

Severus snickered. That was a favorite dish of his that Malika made often.

"James and I alternated between having snowball fights and fixing Christmas decorations. Lily dared us to do it the Muggle way . . . needless to say, we lost badly."

"That's a shocker."

"Do you mind?"

"Yes, but I have a feeling you'll continue your story regardless."

Sirius sighed. "I'm trying to provide you with some insight . . ."

"Could you be quick about it then? I have wallowing to get to."

"Pathetic wanker."

"Pitiful butt sniffer."

The men looked at each other before succumbing to laughter.

"Dumbledore was right—we _do_ act like children!"

"I have a nasty habit of coming down to my opponent's level. With you, it's that of a three year old."

"There you go again, Snape."

"Bygones."

Sirius sighed and began to speak again. "Finally we gave up and put up the decorations magically, a far faster and convenient method if I do say so myself. We walked inside, and Lily was nowhere to be found, but Malika was sitting in a rocking chair, cooing and holding Harry."

"I'll bet she was beautiful," Snape said with a soft smile on his face.

A dreamy look fell upon Sirius's face. "She most definitely was. Harry was completely taken with her, in fact. That was one happy baby boy—Lil and James as his parents, then Leka and I as his godparents. I won't lie; seeing Malika all maternal made me yearn for little Blacks of my own . . ." Sirius looked at Severus pointedly, and he chuckled.

"A sarcastic comment would've fit nicely here, but even I won't be that crass," Snape promised.

Sirius turned his eyes back to the wall before them. "James went upstairs to ask Lily a question, and I kneeled at Leka's side as she rocked Harry gently. By this time, Leka was humming a tune—"

"_This Little Light of Mine,_ most likely; she always sang it to Nia when she was being particularly fussy," Snape interrupted.

Sirius seemed impressed. "Right you are, Snape. I loved hearing Malika sing; it was so soothing and clear as a bell. Harry clearly enjoyed it as well for he was sleeping so soundly. I kissed little Harry's head, and she smiled at me. She asked me if I wanted children."

"Dear Merlin . . ."

Sirius chuckled at the comment. "I know. Up until then, the thought of me being _anyone's_ father filled me with a sense of dread, but seeing Malika with Harry filled me with excitement, anticipation. I answered yes, and her smile widened. I couldn't help myself; I had to kiss her."

Severus scowled at the thought of Malika kissing another man, _especially_ Sirius Black.

"I thought the kiss was a bit hesitant, as if she held back. I pulled away from her and ran the back of my hand against her cheek. I knew women her age would feel maternal as well, so I jokingly asked her if she was jealous. She said yes."

Severus frowned. "Jealous? Jealous of what?"

Sirius gave him an incredulous look but continued his story. "She said Lily was lucky because she and James were able to have a child together. Malika didn't think she would have the luxury of having a child by the man she loved."

Severus heard the bitterness in his voice. "Black . . ."

He shrugged. "I could've been the most romantic bloke in the world, but she still loved your ugly mug more. I often wondered if those eyes of hers were defective."

Severus snorted. "I'm sure you weren't the only one who did. I'll admit I wondered myself."

"But hers were only for you, and as she looked at baby Harry, I knew she was envisioning holding your child; not mine and _definitely_ not Johnson's. When she said she wouldn't have the same luxury as Lily, my body went cold. I knew she had top marks in Divination, but so did I, and I _definitely_ made up some catastrophes during my time at Hogwarts . . . but when Malika spoke, it usually came true."

"I swear to Merlin, Black, if I could've done anything else . . ."

"I know. If _I_ remained Secret-Keeper . . ."

Severus nodded; he knew that fact all too well.

"Unfortunately, we can't live in what ifs," Sirius muttered.

"Yes, you can. I'm sure you remember a certain episode with a certain time-turner featuring a certain hippogriff . . ."

Sirius snickered. "Buckbeak must be mighty hungry . . . I hope someone's feeding him."

"Can't have the poor thing dying, now can we?" Snape said dryly.

Sirius laughed at the sarcasm. "He kept me sane during my house arrest."

Severus kept his mouth shut—making a comment about that would've been too easy.

The men were sharing an easy silence when Sirius chuckled. "I remember Lil and Leka talking about kids when Lil was pregnant, having fantasies about their kids being the best of friends and possibly even getting married."

Severus snickered. "Harry and Nia hate each other."

"That's the best way to fall in love . . . from hate . . ."

Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow at the other man. "Don't get any ideas, Black."

"In your dreams, _Snivellus_."

"Don't you mean nightmares?"

Sirius laughed a haughty laugh. "I may be close to forty, but I'm still the hottest guy on two legs here . . ."

"Don't you mean four?"

Sirius smiled. "Better than none; your kind slithers around like the snakes you are . . ."

"Snakes are quick and lethal. Dogs are loud and clumsy."

"Yet which would ladies want to pet?"

Severus smirked. "Malika liked snakes."

"There were many times she rubbed my head when I laid it in her lap . . ."

Severus's lip curled in disgust.

Sirius let out a contented sigh at the memory. "Malika Javier Roberts . . ."

"Snape," Severus added.

Sirius looked to the heavens in annoyance, and Severus grinned. "_Snape._ Though I think Malika Javier Roberts Black sounds even better."

"That's what you get for thinking. A rare occurrence, I'm sure . . ."

"There you go with the insults again, _Snivellus_."

"Pot, kettle."

"I'm surprised you didn't make a joke about them being black and my last name being Black."

"The obviousness of the situation did not need my commentary."

Sirius made a face, and Severus chuckled.

"I remember talking to James once, about Malika and me. He warned me, as he always did, but he warned me I could never reach her the way you did. I laughed him off, thinking what a ludicrous thing to say! I mean, I'm handsome, charming, clever—everything a girl in her right mind would want in a mate, in a husband. Malika was definitely in her right mind, and she was everything a man in _his_ right mind would want—strong, independent, smart, outgoing, beautiful—so very beautiful—humble, compassionate . . ."

"She was compassionate to a fault," Severus agreed.

Sirius nodded. "Yes. She went back to you even _after_ what you did to her."

"If you're going to insult me, get the hell out, Black."

"No, I'm making a point."

"Make it quickly."

"My point is she saw the inherent good in everyone. Not to say she was perfect. She was a master guilt-tripper. She'd twist your words around so she could get what she wanted out of you . . ."

"She would've made an excellent Slytherin." Severus grinned.

"But she was a Gryffindor instead. Mainly because she was impulsive. Always leapt before thinking. She lost interest in things quickly, so I was surprised, to say the least, when she didn't drop you like a bad habit."

"Gee, you know how to make a man feel better about himself."

"Considering you're not a man, that would be a moot comment."

"Black . . ." Severus said warningly.

"Bygones . . . anyway, the same could've been said for me. _I_ was the one, after all, who convinced James and Lil to let Pettigrew be the Secret-Keeper. I pretty much handed them over to Voldie with a nice pink bow."

Severus laughed at the irony. "Both of us made decisions that cost us people we loved, and yet Malika forgave us anyway. What a woman."

"I could say you didn't deserve her, Snape, but that, also, would be a moot point."

"And I could say the same."

"A goddess among men, she was . . ."

Severus laughed. "Again, irony. She _was_ a goddess."

Sirius smirked. "Yes. I guess even goddesses fall . . ."

Images of a shaking, crying Malika flashed through his head, and he sobbed.

"I _didn't_ deserve her . . . she should've left with you . . ."

A hesitant hand hovered over his shoulder before it grasped it and squeezed. "Love isn't about deserving, Snape. If that were the case, a great number of people would never find it. The fact remains, Malika loved you and only you; there was nothing you could've done that would change her mind, even that."

"But I forced her down and . . ."

"She wrote me a letter; it was a couple of months after the ordeal. She'd already moved back to the States by then. She told me everything about what happened—everything. We may not have been lovers anymore, but she was definitely my best friend."

"A thing I could never understand . . ."

Sirius glared at him. "Can it, Snape."

Severus merely shrugged.

"But I was going to give it to you. As much as I hated your guts, I loved Malika more, and she was one of the main reasons why I didn't lose my soul. I was out for blood."

"Why haven't you killed me yet, then, since you know everything?"

Sirius looked at him, a mask of hatred on his face. "You don't. As a matter of fact, neither does Dumbledore . . ."

The dread returned, fiercer than ever. "What do you mean?"

"Remember at that meeting when Jamilah figured out who this Set god was?"

"Yes. It's Pettigrew; I figured it out when Voldemort returned."

Sirius's expression was grim. "Remember that when you read the letter."

sssssssssssss

Pettigrew downed the scotch in one large gulp, not even wincing as it burned his throat. This holiday season brought none of its usual cheer.

He could not get to the Weasley girl.

Pettigrew growled and looked at the empty shot glass with disdain. There was a _reason_ for leaving Potter alone, and the very _reason_ was proving difficult to come by. He, like Voldemort, couldn't very well go traipsing down into Hogsmeade whenever he wanted, which meant someone else had to do it. As it was, all of the Death Eaters were not known for their stealth. The exception was Snape, and even he left Pettigrew with a nagging discomfort.

_Bloody Occlumens and Legilimens._

Snape was a liability that could prove to be fatal to the cause. The only reason why Snape was still there in one piece was because he provided good information about the goings on at Hogwarts. How else would they have known to use Sirius as bait? Pettigrew's lip curled with sadistic glee.

_Sirius is dead! Good riddance._

One less person to worry about standing in the way of Harry Potter; one less person in the way of Ginevra Weasley; one less person in the way of Isis.

He was _positive_ Ginevra Weasley was Isis.

He'd felt her use her powers three times, the third was even stronger than before. The first one, however, was indeed stronger than the second, and the energy from it was peculiar, but three times the charm, no? Pettigrew's smile widened. He was closer to his key to total domination—of the world and of _her_.

He poured himself another shot of scotch in self-congratulations.

"Pettigrew!"

He rolled his eyes at the sound of his name. "What do you want?"

Pettigrew felt the other bristle with indignation. He smirked.

"Harry Potter's head on a stick, that's what!"

"Patience, Voldie, _patience_ . . . I've waited many millennia, surely you can wait another year . . ."

Voldemort gave a high-pitched sputter, and Pettigrew groaned. Voldemort was nothing more than an overgrown child.

"I don't _have_ patience! All you're doing is allowing him to grow stronger!"

"He's but a boy—"

"With _my_ essence flowing through him!"

Pettigrew scowled. "Poor kid."

Voldemort squealed and shot a curse at him. The spell hit the scotch glass and caused it to explode. Pettigrew glared at the incensed Dark Lord.

"I'll have you know," Pettigrew began as he shook the scotch off his hand, "that was a particularly good shot glass you just destroyed!"

Pettigrew was sure Voldemort would've rolled his eyes if he had any. "I don't _care_ about your stupid shot glass! I want Harry Potter! I want the world!"

"I want my hair back as well, but you don't see me raiding wig shops, do you?"

"You should," Voldemort deadpanned.

Pettigrew glared again. "Patience. You're getting stronger as well, my lord. Pretty soon you won't even need your wand."

Voldemort offered a lipless smile and Pettigrew fought down a shudder. "Potter won't know what hit him."

"And neither will the Weasley girl . . ."

"A most interesting development has been brought to my attention on the matter," Voldemort said, highly pleased with himself.

"Oh?"

"It seems Mr. Potter has taken a shining to Miss Weasley . . ."

Pettigrew grinned . . .It was too good to be true.

"You mean like—"

"James and Lily Potter! What is it with redheads being drawn to the Potters? There's nothing all that special about them . . ."

"It's the tall, dark, and handsome thing."

Voldemort looked confounded. "I'm tall, dark, and handsome."

Pettigrew was glad he was able to keep a straight face, though a corner of his mouth did twitch with effort.

"Speaking of the Potters . . . did we ever find the other girl?"

Pettigrew frowned. "What other girl?"

"The one who was supposed to bear my heir."

Pettigrew scanned his brain, trying to remember her name. He came up blank.

"What was her name?

"Molly . . . Mallory . . . Malady . . ."

Pettigrew's brows furrowed as he ran through a list of names as well. Suddenly the tension left his face, and his eyes widened.

"Malika?"

Voldemort snapped his fingers in triumph. "Malika! Yes! Did we ever find her? If so, where is she now? And more importantly, where is my heir?"

Truth was he didn't know. Last he knew, she was fucking Sirius Black . . . before then . . .

_Severus Snape._

"I don't know, my lord, but I'm sure Snape knows where she is."

Voldemort waved his hand as if to brush away the offer. "I don't care about _her_. I want my heir!"

"How do you know you were supposed to have an _heir_?"

"Malfoy was telling me about a Dark Revel in which a certain Malika was taken and given a Conception Ritual."

"Aren't Conception Rituals good things?"

Voldemort laughed. "Not when they take place in at a Dark Revel and not when they use wolfsbane instead of myrrh to anoint the body."

Pettigrew's frown deepened. "I was there . . . did Malfoy remember what this Malika girl look like?"

"He said she was short, very beautiful, skin the color of deepest mahogany, eyes like the sun . . ."

Pettigrew sucked in a wild breath of shock.

_Her._

"If you're looking for Malika . . .she didn't conceive."

"How do you know this?"

"I would've felt her seed grow."

"How?"

"Because I would've been the father, that's how."


	15. Fifteen

_Fifteen_

He'd been trying to make eye contact with her all morning, but she was proving exceedingly ornery. It was Christmas morning, and the four of them were downstairs in the Great Hall, though it was not so great with a total of ten people from the school remaining over holiday. Many parents took advantage of the lack of Dark activity and summoned their children home. Gryffindor had the most of any house with four, and the other three had two each. He was mildly glad Malfoy went home, if only for not having to see his face, but also Ron's ever-growing desire to kill the ferret. As it was, Harry didn't fancy one of his best friends in Azkaban, but Malfoy wasn't his concern at the moment.

_C'mon, Nia . . . look at me . . ._

An elbow hit his side, and he opened his mouth to protest.

That was until he stared in the brown eyes of a certain redhead.

"Ginny." His tone was soft, and she rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you go down there and talk to her? You know you want to," she said knowingly.

Harry glanced down at the table. He'd never seen Nia look more miserable.

"Are you going to tell her about your dream?"

She shook her head. "Yeah, right, Harry. 'Happy Christmas, Nia! I saw your mother get raped! How? She was me!' Not necessarily a bearing of good tidings."

Harry chuckled a bit. "I just want to see her smile, Gin. It's been so long . . ."

Ginny looked confused. "Smile?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, she gets these dimples that are absolutely adorable. I want to see them again . . ."

"_Really . . ._"

Harry internally groaned. Ginny's voice affected the tone Lavender and Parvati got when they had a particularly juicy piece of gossip. And as much as he liked Ginny, it was still annoying coming from her as well.

"What does that 'really' mean, Gin?"

She looked highly smug, and warning bells went off in his head. "Nothing . . ."

He knew she was lying, and he knew she knew he knew she was lying. He sighed.

"Ginny, ever since we began training, you've been acting weird, _especially_ about Nia and me. Do you know something?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

Harry looked at her pointedly. "You know very well what I mean. First you're giving Nia and me lovey dovey looks which, I must admit, make us rather uncomfortable, _then_ you're spouting scarlet beams out your hands, and _then_ you have that rather horrific 'nightmare' which saw Nia's mother being . . . y'know . . . what happened to you?"

"Are you still having the dreams?"

He frowned. "I haven't had a dream about Voldemort in a while, actually. I'm rather concerned."

She looked mildly concerned as well but shook her head. "No, not _those_ dreams. The dreams with you as Apedemak."

His frowned deepened. "What do you know about that?"

"Why else do you think I can shoot scarlet light from my hands, Harry?"

His face mirrored his confusion before his eyes widened in comprehension.

"You mean—you . . . _her . . .ME?!_"

Ginny giggled at his incredulous exclamation. "Yes, you. Mr. Potter, not only are you the Boy Who Lived, you're also a lion-headed god. No wonder you're a Gryffindor!"

He rolled his eyes at her corniness but couldn't help but think it all made sense.

"Does that mean . . ."

His eyes watched as Nia left the table, her shoulders slumped and sadness radiating from her person.

"Why don't you go follow her? The only other person in Slytherin is that seventh year, and she can't stop sucking face with her Ravenclaw boyfriend at the moment."

He chuckled at her observation. "You think Ron and Hermione'll mind?"

Both took a glance at the couple. They were so into each other they threatened to become the Ravenclaw/Slytherin couple soon.

"I'll _sacrifice_ myself for you this time, Harry."

"Why don't you go? You're her best friend!"

"And you're her training partner. I've seen you two in action; you have an unspoken rhythm with each other. You don't hate each other _nearly_ as much as you'd like to think. Besides, you may earn a smile."

"Or a slap," he said dryly.

"You're a Gryffindor, aren't you? Surely a little slap from a little third year won't make you go screaming to the hills."

He gave her a sardonic look. "_You've_ never been slapped by her before. I'll bet if you ask Malfoy, he'll say the same thing."

She grinned cheekily. "You and Draco agreeing on something? There's a first."

"Draco? Did I just hear that ferret's _first _name?!"

Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes, and Harry laughed. "Better be careful, Gin."

"Since when did we use the ferret's _first_ name, Gin? He's a bloody Death Eater in training!"

"I will _not_ have this discussion with you again, _Ronald_, so bugger off!"

_Leave _now!she mouthed to Harry.

"I'm—"

Ginny shook her head frantically, shooing him out the door. He smiled in comprehension. If Harry announced he was leaving, then Ron and Hermione would want to follow.

He wanted to talk to Nia alone.

As it was, she was probably long gone by now.

He sighed and left the Great Hall anyway, hoping to catch up with her. He figured the best bet would be to go to the dungeons, but seeing as he did not know the password, the trip would be a waste. He turned the corner but immediately went behind it again. She was standing there, talking to Professor Snape.

Harry's lip curled in hatred. It was the bastard's fault Nia wasn't happy in the first place.

"Nia . . ." Severus began.

She made no reply.

There was shuffling before Snape spoke again. "Your sister will be coming by later in the day to spend Christmas with you."

Harry peered around the corner to see her nodding. Snape gave a curt nod and began to walk around her. Nia's hand shot out to stay him. The look of shock on Snape's face mirrored Harry's.

"Nia?"

"Merry Christmas," she said softly.

This was the first time Harry had ever seen Snape close to crying. The older man turned to face her and rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

"Happy Christmas, love."

She gave Snape a small smile and began walking again. Harry was so focused on her he jumped at the sound of a throat clearing.

Snape raised an amused eyebrow at him. "Isn't she a bit on the _young_ side?"

Harry glared at him. "I don't know what you mean, _Professor_."

Snape seemed unimpressed by his slight, and it only served to infuriate Harry more. "Regardless, you'll figure it out soon enough. As it is, things have been set into motion even _Dumbledore _cannot stop."

"You mean like with you and Nia's mother?"

It was Snape's turn to look infuriated. "Potter—"

"I know what happened, Professor. I know what you did . . ."

"You know _nothing!_ You have no idea how convoluted this situation is!" Snape snarled. Suddenly the older man gripped his left arm in pain, and Harry instinctively knew Voldemort was calling. Harry tensed in reaction, and Snape laughed sardonically.

"Don't worry, Potter, for once he's not concerned about you."

If anything, he became more agitated. "Nia—"

"Is going to the dungeons, the Potions classroom. If you hurry, you can catch up with her." Snape brushed past him and turned another corner. He wondered why Snape would tell him—

_Bloody Legilimens._

He waited a few seconds before going after Nia. She was about to go down the stairs to the dungeons when he opened his mouth to call to her. She stopped suddenly. So did he.

"How long have you been followin' me?"

His jaw dropped. "_What_?"

She snickered and turned to face him. It wasn't a smile, but it wasn't a scowl either.

_It's a start . . ._

"I've felt you here since I talked with—"

"Snape," he finished for her, seeing her internal struggle with what to call him.

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

She chuckled, but there was no mirth. "Honestly? Like crap. But that's to be expected, no?"

"Nia . . ."

She held up her hand and shook her head. "Whatever you're about to say, spare me."

"But I was going to apolo—"

"You can't apologize for something that's not your fault."

"But if I hadn't told you—"

"Sooner or later that cat would've come out the bag."

"That doesn't mean I had to open it," he muttered.

The chuckle transformed into a giggle, and the dimples made a long-awaited appearance.

_Score!_

"I make you laugh now, do I?"

"That comment just tickled me," she replied, covering her mouth with her hand.

_Hand over mouth? That's no good . . ._

He walked up to her and moved the hand away, his eyes never leaving hers_._

"Why did you do that?" she breathed.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "It's been a while since I last saw you smile, Nia. I've missed it."

She smirked. "Hard to smile when there's nothing to smile about."

He sighed. "I know. Ever since my godfather died, I've been in a funk. But my friends have helped me a lot."

She squeezed his hand, and it was then he realized he'd been absently rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. He blushed, and she giggled again.

"You wear your emotions on your face, Potter."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Could be, perhaps Grandma will let us play poker . . . practice your bluffing . . ."

"Poker?"

"Yes, card game, gamble money, try to win it, usually means you'll trick other people to folding so you can get it . . ."

"Sounds right up a Slytherin's alley."

"Yes, which is why I suggested we play it. A sista could use a lil' extra income . . ."

He chuckled, and she smiled.

"Any particular reason why you're here though?"

He felt the heat creep up his cheeks again but was more successful at stamping it down. "I wanted to talk to you . . . a-about uh, the extra lessons."

"You also make a horrible liar. Maybe you need to hang with Draco more."

"I'd rather eat cow dung."

"Whatever floats your boat, but blech."

"It's not as if I'm not spending time with the ferret as it is right now."

"And his girlfriend."

"Are you trying to make me angry?"

She grinned. "You're cute when you're angry."

He snorted. "You're not. You make me fear for my life!"

"As you should."

"You almost hacked off my arm the other day! If it wasn't for Ginny . . ." His voice trailed as her hand went to his left bicep, the place where her weapon slashed him. She squeezed it gently, staring at it before looking into his eyes.

"Do you want to know why I was shaking?" she asked lowly.

"Perhaps because you cut me . . ."

She grinned and nodded. "Yes . . ." She looked behind him. "Can we take this conversation downstairs?"

She didn't wait for a reply as she led them down to the dungeons. They entered the Potions classroom and sat down at an end table near the door. She looked towards the head of the class, and he studied her profile. Her face had lost some of its baby-ness, partly due to her getting older but most of it from training. She was not as rotund as she was, but she did gain muscle mass.

She would be beautiful when she got older.

He shook his head and frowned, trying to get his mind back on track.

"Was that the only reason you were shaking?"

She tilted her head towards him. "I felt it."

Confusion settled on his face. "Felt what?"

She smiled softly. "The gash. It hurt somethin' awful."

"You _felt_ my injury?"

She turned to him fully and nodded. "It freaked me out, Potter. That junk hurt, for one, but for me to feel a sensation you were feeling really unsettled me."

"Maybe you were just imagining it . . ."

"So you mean _after_ Ginny healed your arm then the stinging in _my_ arm went away because she healed it?"

"Yes."

She looked at him incredulously. "Right. Speaking of freaky . . . what _was_ that?"

Harry turned red, though he didn't know why. "Uh, remember when we researched the gods last Easter holiday?"

"Yes?"

He exhaled deeply. "Gin seems to think we're those gods."

She looked at him blankly before she started to giggle.

"Do you think I'm lying?" he asked, a little bit hurt and annoyed.

She shook her head. "No! I'm laughing because it's so way out of left field it _has_ to be true! How else do you explain what she did . . . what _I_ did . . ."

"Yeah," he said slowly.

"I mean, why else would we be able to feel each other's pain, right? That I could feel your presence? We're gods; makes perfect sense."

He gave her a cautious look. "So are you . . . _okay_ with this . . .?"

She gave a sarcastic bark of laughter. "Not like I have much of a choice! This must be why they said Set the other day . . ."

Her face clouded over, and he knew she was referring to the day she found out about Snape.

_Insufferable prick._

She looked at him curiously. "What's got you so mad?"

His hand was squeezed again, and he blushed.

They were still holding hands.

"Nothing."

She grinned at him and let go of his hand. Harry keenly felt the loss.

"I didn't mind that so much," he blurted.

"Getting mad?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Holding your hand. Now I'm cold."

"Body heat from a hand will hardly keep you warm enough," she said dryly.

"If it's _your_ hand, it will."

She sucked in a breath and turned her eyes to the head of the class. He smirked.

"So . . ." she began after a while. "You're implying you're Apedemak, since when you dream you dream of him. Does this mean I'm Isis?"

"Seems that way."

"Which means if we're training with Draco and Ginny, _they're _gods as well. Logic reasons Ginny is Nephthys and Draco is Osiris. Makes sense if you think about it."

He looked aghast. "How the _bloody hell_ is _Malfoy_ a _good god_?!"

Nia rolled her eyes. "If you don't understand by now this thing is bigger than you and Draco and some silly little House rivalry, then _maybe_ we need to find a new Apedemak."

"Sorry, love, you're stuck with this one."

"God help us all . . ."

He laughed shortly, and the pair fell into silence. Nia laid her head on the desk, and Harry leaned back in his chair, keeping a hand on the table before him just in case the chair fell over.

"I'm worried about him," she said after awhile.

"Malfoy?"

She nodded. "And Sn—Daddy."

Harry set all legs on his chair on the floor again. He knew it was a big step to call him that again, and he rubbed her shoulder in comfort.

"Why?"

"I know he's a double agent for the Order; there's no other explanation for him to _still_ be a Death Eater and be one of Dumbledore's most trusted allies. And I _also_ know whatever happened between him and my mother during that Dark whatever _had_ to have been for the Order . . ."

Harry was skeptical. "Why do you think that?"

She sighed. "In the hall . . . just now . . . that was the closest I let him get to me all term, and I saw his eyes, and I felt his emotions. He loves me, and as hard as I tried to hate him, I couldn't. I've been sad, and that's because he wasn't there. I figure if Mama could forgive him and love him, then who am I to judge?"

He smiled a bit. "You sure are wise."

She giggled. "Angie said the same thing to me not too long ago. It's not wise; it's common sense. Grandma, if nothing else, has made me recognize the value of common sense."

"I'll admit; I like her as a DADA professor."

"I'm glad for you."

He laughed. "You don't?"

She shrugged. "It's just . . . _weird_ having her there all the time, looking at me and expecting more things, _and_ having her be my grandma. I feel like I'm under constant pressure. I just wanna be left alone sometimes . . ."

"Welcome to my world," he said dryly.

"Ugh, I feel for you, man."

"Now it's worse. Do you think this is the reason Voldemort's left me alone?"

She shrugged again. "You're asking the wrong person. Dumbledore may know . . ."

"After the revelations he's given you thus far, I think I'll steer clear of the headmaster right now."

She grinned at him. "Smart move, Potter. Unfortunately _I_ don't have that luxury . . ."

"Yeah, Snape."

"Him, and Grandma, and—" A bark stopped her listing. He knew that bark.

Harry's heart stopped beating.

"What was that?"

She frowned at Harry's strangled question. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!"

"You don't sound fine. You sound like you're choking . . ."

"No, really! Just, just what was that?"

"It's a dog—"

"Black?"

She nodded. "Yeah! How do you know what color it is?"

"Where is he?"

Her face mirrored her confusion. "I don't think I should—"

"I don't bloody care _what_ you think! Where is he?"

She became angry. "Don't you cuss at me!"

"I can—" He stopped speaking and took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry, Nia. Could you please tell me where he is?"

Nia narrowed her eyes. "If I do, you can't tell _anyone—_not even your two friends."

"I promise I won't tell Ron and Hermione."

She looked skeptical. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm not a Slytherin."

Her eyes flashed but seemed to let the comment slide. "Wait outside."

"What?"

She glared at him. "Look, we either do this my way or no way."

He groaned but did as he was told. Nia closed the door behind him, and he became more agitated.

_If that dog is who I think it is . . . I'll kill him . . ._

How _dare_ he be alive all this time and not contact him! He thought briefly he should've tried the mirror again, but after that time at Ron's house, he became depressed and swore never to use it again.

_So much for keeping oaths . . ._

"You can come in now!"

Harry opened the door carefully. Standing beside the desk was a crouched Nia, cooing and scratching the head of a very familiar black dog. He stopped a good distance away from them.

"Snuffles," he said flatly.

The dog left Nia's arms and walked up to Harry. A gamut of emotions ran through him as the dog transformed into his supposed dead godfather. Nia let out a yelp in surprise, and a corner of Sirius' mouth lifted. Neither man said anything for a bit until Sirius broke into a small, hesitant smile.

"Hullo, Harry."

ssssssssssssssss

His mother looked at him with sad, resigned eyes, and he offered an upturned corner of his mouth to her. He knew she was worried, and he tried to set her mind at ease.

He'd have better luck making water freeze in hell.

As such, that was where he was now—his father's study—with the grotesque form of the Dark Lord and his whimpering sidekick, Pettigrew.

"Draco!"

He jumped then cursed himself for the action. His father sneered at him.

"Pathetic, you are. I can't believe I thought you ready for the Dark Lord's illustrious army . . ."

Draco said nothing.

"Don't be so hard on the boy, Lucius. I remember you doing the same when you first met me . . ."

Lucius looked extremely uncomfortable, and Draco smiled internally. He glanced his mother's way and saw she wore a self-satisfied smirk.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius muttered.

Voldemort walked towards Draco, hands behind back at leisure. Draco kept his eyes ahead of him as the Dark Lord inspected him closely.

"Very nice, strapping young man," Voldemort said. The compliment sounded silly to Draco's ears, and he bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

"Thank you, my lord."

Voldemort smirked. "He's perfect for the role."

Draco's heartbeat slowed.

_Role?_

"Thank you, my lord."

"Let's hope the younger Malfoy will have better luck getting Miss Weasley than you did," Voldemort said.

_The Dark Lord, two. Lucius, zero._

_Getting Miss Weasley?_

Draco began to feel anxious.

"It was that insufferable Potter's fault—"

"Yes! We _know_ it was _Potter's_ fault!" Voldemort spat. "But that is beside the point! You let a twelve year old boy beat you!"

_As if _he_ has any leeway to speak._

"If I am not mistaken, _my lord_, Harry Potter beat you when he was but a babe," Pettigrew said, sickeningly sweet.

Draco drew blood from his tongue so great was the pressure of his teeth.

_Pettigrew, one. Dark Lord, two. Lucius, zero._

Voldemort whirled towards the mousy man with his wand raised. Pettigrew merely lifted an eyebrow.

"Put the wand away, my lord. You need me, remember?"

Voldemort seemed to hesitate before complying. The look on Lucius's face was one of disbelief and envy.

_Even Peter _Pettigrew_ gets to boss Voldemort around! No _wonder_ Father hates him so! The question remains—_why? _Why does Voldemort need _him?

"You'd do well never to correct me in front of my men again, Wormy," Voldemort said in a tone that warranted utter compliance. Pettigrew nodded humbly, but there was a tiny smirk on his face all the while.

Things were definitely peculiar in the Dark camp.

"Narcissa, _love_. Leave."

His mother cast him an apprehensive look before she inclined her head and left the study.

Lucius pointed his wand to the door. "_Compingo."_

Draco heard the door lock, and his heart beat double time.

There was no escape now.

Voldemort grinned, and Draco shuddered at the unsightliness of it. "Excellent. Now, young Draco, your assignment . . . though I very well can't explain it fully until—"

There was a pop as Snape appeared inside the study, bowing at the Dark Lord's feet. "Many apologies, my lord." Snape kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes in supplication.

"Never mind, never mind, on your feet, you. I have questions for you to answer."

Snape was the picture of serenity, and Draco couldn't help but think he was an excellent actor.

Or completely daft.

"Yes, my lord."

Voldemort started right away. "Approximately fourteen years ago there was a Dark Revel in which the Conception Ritual was performed. You were there, correct?"

"Yes."

"Pettigrew says you anointed a certain Malika with the wolfsbane, and he performed the act, correct?"

Snape appeared confused. "He did? I thought the performer was Johnson, an Auror."

Voldemort whirled towards the other man. "_What_?"

This was the first time Pettigrew seemed anything but confident. "Well, I used Polyjuice to do it . . ."

"You WHAT?"

"I couldn't show myself at the time, my lord. I was supposed to be dead! Black was already in Azkaban for my 'murder,' and as it was, other Death Eaters would've gladly disposed of me had I revealed myself."

"I being one of them," Snape deadpanned.

_Snape, one. Pettigrew, one. Dark Lord, two. Lucius, zero._

"THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE!"

Pettigrew frowned. "Why would this make a difference anyway? She didn't conceive or else I would've felt the child's presence!"

"Why?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Because! She had ancient magic! _I_ have ancient magic!"

Lucius chuckled sardonically. "You're no more ancient than a baby."

White light shot out of Pettigrew's hand and hit Lucius squarely on the chest. Lucius yelped and flew back into one of the bookcases, falling on his bum with a thud. Several volumes struck his head as they dropped to the floor.

_Snape, one. Pettigrew, two. Dark Lord, two. Lucius, negative three._

As he internally snickered at the scorecard, Draco remembered what Osiris/Asar told him and Ginny.

_But the man with the silver hand will figure it out soon enough._

His blood ran cold. Peter Pettigrew was _Set_! Draco all of a sudden had an inkling of what his "role" would be.

Set would want Nia because she was Isis, but the question remained—what did Ginny have to do with any of this?

Trepidation made itself comfortable in his stomach.

"Now that you've almost killed one of the senior members of my minions, kindly explain to Snape what you mean by 'ancient magic,'" Voldemort said sarcastically.

Pettigrew narrowed his eyes. "Why should _he_ know? He's a—"

"Very invaluable member to the cause, as you well know, Pettigrew," Snape said smoothly. "I'm the only one who has unrestricted access to Dumbledore and to Potter."

"Exactly. He should know, especially since Draco is at Hogwarts as well. They are the only two who have access to Potter, Dumbledore, and now the Weasley girl."

_Dear Merlin, no!_

"Forgive me, my lord. I should have known," Pettigrew said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "But I think it should be brought to your attention that Malika's body was not anointed in wolfsbane."

"Excuse me?"

"The body smelled very aromatic, not like wolfsbane. It smelled like myrrh."

Voldemort turned to Snape. "Is this true?"

Draco felt very afraid for Snape at that moment. His reply could mean death.

"Well, my lord, it is entirely possible the Aurors managed to switch bottles during the skirmish. The bottle I lifted read 'wolfsbane.' Remember, Pettigrew became the Auror Johnson; who's to say _he_ didn't do the switch before Pettigrew got to him?"

"But doesn't the potion smoke?"

"Yes, the potion smokes, but not when you give it an oil base. Wolfsbane Potion is highly poisonous, and since the goal of the Ritual was to _create_ a life and not _kill_ it, a basic oil had to be used to distill it."

_Snape, two. Pettigrew, two. Dark Lord, two. Lucius, negative three._

Draco laughed inside. Snape was the only person there well versed in potion-making and knew no one would dare dispute him, regardless if he was telling the truth or not.

Snape was damn good.

"_Speaking _of which, Pettigrew, you need to explain yourself, for Snape's and the boy's sake. Your information could prove vital to their directives," Voldemort ordered.

Pettigrew remained hesitant until he shrugged and began.

"I am the god Set, here to help Voldemort secure dominion of the world, which can only be done by ridding it of Isis and Apedemak."

Snape frowned. "I am not sure I follow . . . you 'claim' to be a god?"

"I 'claim' nothing, you imbecile! I _am!_ Did you not see what I did to Malfoy?" Pettigrew asked wildly as he thrust his hand to the unconscious older Malfoy.

"Yes, but what does this have to do with Malika?"

Pettigrew sneered. "You know very well what 'this' has to do with Malika! Didn't _you_ date the bitch during Hogwarts?"

Draco could see a vein emerge in Snape's neck and his hands clench at his sides. Pettigrew smirked at Snape's attempt to remain in control.

Pettigrew just pressed a dangerous button.

_Snape, two. Pettigrew, three. Dark Lord, two. Lucius, non-applicable._

"Weren't _you_ friends with the very people the Dark Lord tried to kill?"

_Snape, three. Pettigrew, three. Dark Lord, two. Lucius, non-applicable._

"Regardless, I'm curious myself, why this Malika girl?"

Pettigrew/Set sighed. "She was the vessel through which Isis would come."

"You mean to tell me my heir was to be a _girl_?"

"Yes."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie per—"

"_Crucio!_"

_Snape, three. Pettigrew, three. Dark Lord, three. Lucius, non-applicable._

"You thought me to come back a _woman_?"

"But Isis is the most powerful goddess in the world!" Pettigrew gasped.

"But she's a _woman!_"

"Well spotted," Draco heard Snape mutter. Draco resumed biting his tongue.

"Yes, she is—"

"And _if_ you are trying to rid the world of Isis and Apedemak, why on _earth_ would you want _me_ to return in something you mean to destroy?"

Draco masked his laugh in a cough.

_Snape, three. Pettigrew, three. Dark Lord, four. Lucius, non-applicable._

"She would've been bred in our ways, having Isis as an ally would all but secure our victory over Potter and any other enemy who dares to stand in our way."

Voldemort stopped the curse as he pondered the thought.

"Go on . . ."

"This is why we need the Weasley girl! _She_ is the new Isis!"

"How is that possible if the Malika girl was the vessel?"

"My lord, as I said, I could not feel the woman grow a seed inside of her. All of the ancient gods are connected, especially if we create a child together. Since I felt no such connection, reason leads me to believe she did not conceive."

"Then find her again!"

Snape spoke this time. "I have it on good authority she is dead, my lord."

"And how do you know this?"

"I accompanied Dumbledore to her funeral."

Voldemort frowned. "How long ago was this?"

"Four years ago, my lord."

"Four years ago, I was still a floating spirit, a ripe time for you or _anyone_ else to try the Ritual again! Why did this not happen?"

"I was Scabbers at the time," Pettigrew said with a shudder. "I'd left the body. Why would I want to be a mouse for all that time?"

"Your excuse?" Voldemort asked of Snape.

"The Chamber had been opened."

Voldemort cast a disgusted look in Malfoy senior's direction and rolled his pupil-less eyes. "What a debacle that was."

Draco smirked. _Snape, three. Pettigrew, three. Dark Lord, five. Lucius, non-applicable._

"But by that point it wouldn't matter. Ginevra Weasley had the diary; she opened it and was able to use it. Only those worthy could do that; she already had the ancient magic; she was already Isis."

"I don't understand; Miss Weasley was already born by the time the Conception Ritual happened. How could Malika be the vessel if the reincarnate was already born?" Snape asked. It was then Pettigrew looked truly stumped and became angry.

_Snape, four. Pettigrew, three. Dark Lord, five. Lucius, non-applicable._

"You tell me how the gods work?! I was right about Malika, and I'm right about her not conceiving."

Snape would not be swayed. "You may be right about Malika, but about her conceiving, you are not."

Pettigrew and Voldemort looked at each other with confusion, and Snape gave a tiny smirk.

"In order for Polyjuice Potion to work, more than just the outward appearance must change. The entire DNA composition changes in order for the transformation to complete, which means that the original body's DNA recomposes itself to the target shape—be it animal or human."

_Damn._

"NO!"

Snape tried his very best not to look smug. "Yes, Pettigrew, Set, whoever you are. Since you inhabited Pettigrew's body originally, your essence had been integrated into Pettigrew's DNA. Once you took the Polyjuice Potion, your essence was erased. Only Pettigrew's mind remained—the mind that existed before you took over his body."

"_NOO!_"

"So you see," Snape continued, looking at his hands in a bored fashion, "even if Malika _had_ conceived, you would be none the wiser, because the child she might have carried would biologically be Caleb Johnson's, _not_ yours."

_Brilliant! Bloody brilliant!_

"IMPOSSIBLE!"

Snape looked at Pettigrew head on. "On the contrary. It is possible. In fact, it is the only scenario that makes sense."

"Are you saying," Voldemort asked quietly, "Malika _did_ conceive?"

"There is no record of that being the case."

"Blast the record! I wouldn't _be_ here if Isis wasn't!"

"I'm not a god, so I wouldn't know," Snape said dryly.

Pettigrew huffed in indignation. "She lives, and I will not _rest_ until I find her. In the meantime, I still want the Weasley girl!"

"Why?"

Three pairs of eyes snapped towards him; they clearly forgot Draco was still present.

"I do the asking, Malfoy!" Voldemort sneered.

"Apologies, my lord."

"But since you are the person who will secure her to me, I will tell you—the Weasley girl is necessary to get Potter."

Draco closed his eyes so Voldemort couldn't see him rolling them. "But Little Weasel is _not_ Isis!"

Dead silence.

_That was absolutely the _worst_ thing I could've said!_

Snape's black eyes burned a hole through him with fury.

"Oh? How do you know this, boy?" Pettigrew asked, walking closer to him.

_Think fast, Draco._

"Professor said she was born before the Conception Ritual or whatever occurred, therefore Little Weasel could _not_ be Isis if this Malika lady was the vessel."

Pettigrew looked at him for a long time before he smiled unpleasantly. "That may be true, but I still want her."

"But _why_?"

"Three times ancient magic has been used, and two of the three times registered the same magical wavelength. This little discussion has cleared up many of my questions as to why. Both Isis and Nephthys are here. The first wavelength was from Isis and the last two from Nephthys. If the Weasley girl is not Isis, she must be Nephthys."

"What does that mean?" Voldemort asked.

"This means I'll be reunited with my wife. And this time, she will _not_ forsake me."


	16. Sixteen

_Sixteen_

Fred sat in the living room on the humble two-story house, very nervously rubbing his sweating palms against his trousers in a continuous motion.

The formidable man before him wasn't helping to ease his nerves, either.

Caleb Johnson was an imposing figure, well over six feet tall and the build of a rather large Beater.

But instead he was a top Auror.

_Ruddy great!_

Fred licked his lips and swallowed.

"You're usually more talkative than this, Son.  Why are you so quiet?" Caleb's deep voice asked.  It was as if the house rumbled from the sound, and Fred quaked in fear.

"Nothing to say, Sir."

Caleb chuckled.  "Nothing to say, or nothing to say to _me?_"

Fred briefly wondered if there was a difference.

"I get the feeling this is a special night for you . . . is it?"

Fred exhaled a long, shallow breath.  Today, besides being New Year's Eve, was the anniversary of when he first said he loved her.  He might be a prankster and silly most of the time, but when it came to Angelina, he was romantic and serious.  The past six months had been nothing short of perfect.  Not perfect in that they didn't have arguments or squabbles, but perfect in that it was Angelina as his partner.

Today was a day to reaffirm that fact.

"I just want tonight to be perfect, Sir."

Caleb frowned.  "You're not planning on proposing to her."

Fred was sure what little color he had left his face.  "Sir?" he squeaked.

Caleb gave him an appraising look before he chuckled again.  "I'm just pulling your leg."

"Excuse me, Sir?"

Caleb waved his hand dismissively.  "I'm just remembering when I first met my father-in-law, though I know this is not our first meeting.  He said that to me, and I was just as confused as you are.  I might be Muggle-born, but I am still British.  Those Americans have some peculiar slang terms."

Fred nodded, though he still didn't know what the term meant.  Caleb sensed his confusion.

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Son.  You should be glad.  It means I like you."

_If this is him liking me, I would sure hate to be the unfortunate bloke Mr. Johnson _doesn't_ like!_

"How did you and Mrs. Johnson meet?" Fred asked.  The silence was too oppressive, and he figured a talking Caleb Johnson was better than a silently-planning-your-death Caleb Johnson.

Or at least that was what a silent Mr. Johnson seemed to be.

A faint smile graced Caleb's face, and it made him seem less imposing, approachable even.  "Church."

"Church?"

"Yes, church, or more accurately a church social.  My father had a poker night every Wednesday, and one of his poker buddies invited him to church.  The bloke was an American, Daniel Roberts, but he told me to call him Uncle Danny.  He was a loud man, and his accent was so peculiar to me, but I liked it.  He was always singing and such, _especially_ when he had a good hand.  He'd sing 'good news, the chariot's comin'!' and when he sang that, everyone knew he had a good hand.  Drove my father nutters, but I enjoyed it."

Fred laughed at the scene.  It sounded like something he or George would do.

"Anyway my father accepted and made my mother and me go because I'd get to meet kids my age.  Besides I knew Uncle Danny and his wife had a child—a girl who was a year younger than I.  I was ten years old at the time, so girls still had cooties.  I went to this social, kicking and screaming the entire way, and my mother threatened to take my James Brown records if I made another sound."

"Who is that?"

"The Godfather of Soul?  Oh Fred, Fred, Fred, we're going to have to have a listening party now!  A man should never go through life without knowing a James Brown tune."

"Yes, Sir!"

Caleb laughed and continued.  "So we went to this party, and there were women gossiping and boys playing and girls looking at the boys playing in contempt—everything I knew it to be.  There was one girl in particular who looked _really_ put out."

"Angelina's mum?"

Caleb nodded.  "Angelina's mum.  Never had I seen a girl look so prissy in her yellow dress with white Mary Janes and pigtails with yellow ribbons.  She hung onto her mother like a lifeline.  I knew immediately she would be a horror."

"Was she?"

Caleb looked at him as if Fred had grown another head.  "Was she?  Oh my dear Lord, the woman thought she was nine going on twenty-nine!  She was the bossiest thing I'd ever met!  The first thing she said when she looked at me was, 'Your legs are ashy.'  Keep in mind I didn't know what in Hades 'ashy' meant, so I said, 'Yours are too.'  She looked so smug and said, 'Nuh-uh!  My mama put cocoa butter on me!'  I was so mad I could spit.  I spent the rest of that afternoon avoiding her."

"I know where Angelina gets her spunk from!"

"She said you needed cocoa butter recently?" Caleb teased.

Fred felt the tips of his ears go red.  "No, but during the summer she makes me use 100 SPF sun block; I turn the color of a nicely steamed lobster in the sun."

"Why not use a charm?"

Fred shrugged.  "She _claims_ the Muggle stuff is better.  After seven, now eight, years of knowing Angel, I've realized arguing with her will lead to nothing but heartache."

"I think it's a trait Roberts' women are born with.  Nia's the same way."

Fred didn't know how to respond to that, so he only nodded.

"Anyway, back to my story.  It seems that Ellie's mother was a Seer, even though she couldn't be because she's Muggle, for she predicted, during that very exchange of utter contempt, we were going to fall in love and get married."

Fred's eyes widened.  "She didn't!"

Caleb leaned his elbows on his thighs.  "She _did._  And I told her she was daft!"

"To her face?"

Caleb nodded and laughed.  "My mother was so angry at me!  She _did_ take my records away after that, and _then_ I was forced to _apologize_ to Ellie _and_ her mum."

"That's awful!"

"My contempt swelled into hatred.  Ellie and I didn't say a nice word to each other for _years_."

"Clearly that epidemic changed."

A lecherous grin formed on Caleb's face.  "It most definitely did.  Right around the time something _else_ changed, if you get my meaning . . ."

Fred's grinned matched Caleb.  "I think I follow."

"Oh lad, what a difference four years make!  I'd just returned from Hogwarts after my third year, and I was fourteen years old.  Uncle Danny was still coming over for poker night, but it seemed now he was bringing a guest."

"Mrs. Johnson," Fred said with a grin.

"Apparently Mum was getting lonely in the house now that I was away and invited Ellie to come and spend some time with her.  They came by on Wednesday, as usual, but it was the first time I'd seen Ellie in a year.  I didn't open the door, Dad did that, but when I came down the stairs, my jaw dropped to the floor."

"That must've been a sight!"

Caleb laughed again.  "Was it ever!  Ellie smirked at me and said, 'You look better that way,' and walked around me to say hello to my mum.  It was then I knew I was in love."

"If that was true, why did it take you two more years to wake up?"

Both men jumped at the voice and turned towards the stairs.  There stood the two Johnson women, both beautiful in their own right.  Elle Johnson was a petite woman whose skin was the color of cocoa, and her hair was cut cropped to her head.  She was dressed in gray sweats and green socks.

Even then, elegant was the only word to describe her.

"Like mother, like daughter," Fred mused aloud as his gaze moved to Angelina.  She was wearing a spaghetti strapped shift dress the color of red wine which complemented her nut-brown skin nicely.  Her braided hair was piled high on her head in order to showcase her pearl earrings.  A simple string of pearls hung around her neck.

She was breathtaking.

Angelina smiled shyly at him.  "Do I look all right, Fred?"

_Does she look all right?  What kind of daft question is _that_?!_

"His mouth is hanging open just like it did when your father 'claims' to have fallen in love with me.  It's a safe bet to say you look fine," Elle said as they walked down the rest of the stairs.  She came and touched her fingers to Fred's chin to pull up his jaw.  "And I'd appreciate you not drooling on the carpet, Mr. Weasley . . . I just cleaned it yesterday."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Johnson."  He felt his cheeks turn bright red.

"Mother!  Now is _not_ the time!"

Elle sighed.  "It's bad enough he does it in my restaurant.  _Must_ he do it in my house, as well?"

He felt more nervous with _Mrs. _Johnson than with Mr. Johnson, and Fred's heart rate increased ten fold.

"Mother, _behave._"

"He knows I'm kidding; don't you, Fred?"

"Hmm?  Oh, yes, ma'am!"

His eyes still hadn't left Angelina.

"Take a picture, Fred; it lasts longer," Mr. Johnson said good-naturedly.

Angelina shook her head and walked up to Fred.  It was her movement that snapped him out of his trance, and he stood.  The heels almost brought her height to match his.

That didn't matter; he still wanted to hold her and protect her always.

"Fred?"

She bit her lip in apprehension, lips the same color as her dress.

"Do you know how incredibly gorgeous you are?" he asked her seriously.

She ducked her head.  "_Fred!_"

He shook his head and lifted her face with a finger under her chin.  "I mean it, Angel.  You're so very lovely."

A throat was cleared, and the pair looked up to see a cuddling, yet very amused, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.

"Are you just going to stand in my living room all night, or will you actually _go_ to dinner?"

Angelina rolled her eyes, and Fred blushed again.

"Bye, Mum, Dad.  He'll have me home at a reasonable hour."

Caleb chuckled shortly.  "I know he will, or I'll find a couple of Aurors to come after you two!"

Fred didn't doubt that for a minute.

The four of them walked to the door, and Fred helped Angelina into her overcoat.  He pointed his wand and performed a Warming Charm on it to make it retain heat better and longer.

"Thank you, Fred."

"No problem, love."

Fred put on his own overcoat as Angelina stepped outside.

"Happy New Year, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson."

"You, too, Son.  Tell Molly and Arthur the same for me."

"Will do, Mr. Johnson."

Fred shut the door behind him and stood on the porch, watching Angelina.  She stood there with her arms wrapped around her and stared at the sky.  He grinned to himself and walked to her, wrapping his arms around her.  She sighed contentedly.

"What's on your mind, love?"

"At the moment?  You."

"Pleasant thoughts, I hope," he said as he kissed her temple.

"Hmmm."

He smiled and walked beside her, holding her hand in his.  "Are you sure you want to Apparate there?"

She nodded.  "I don't feel like driving through Muggle London on New Year's Eve, Fred.  People will be so pissed they won't realize we've done it."

He chuckled.  "You have a point there, love.  Besides, we're almost late for our reservation, and for once it isn't my fault."

She grinned at him.  "It takes time for me to get beautiful, Fred."

He scoffed at that.  "Baby, you were _born_ beautiful.  Everything else is just accessory."

Angelina went on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.  "You say the sweetest things, love."

"And the best part is they're all true."

Angelina laughed and drew her wand.  "Ready to go?"

He nodded, and they Apparated into Muggle London close to where their restaurant was.  It was a quaint little Italian restaurant they happened upon on a lunch date.  They didn't need a reservation then because the restaurant didn't really begin to pick up until after four.  As it was, reservations were a hard thing to come by for this restaurant, for it was known for its romantic atmosphere, excellent culinary dishes, and reasonably priced menu.

"Did you have to Apparate us to the alley behind the restaurant?  My bleedin' mouth is salivating already!" Fred asked good-naturedly.

"It was salivating before we left my house, Fred."

He grinned at her.  "Perhaps it's because I'm hungry for something else."  He nipped at her neck, and she giggled.

"It's bad to eat your dessert before dinner, love."

"Blast dinner, then!"  His mouth moved up her neck to her jaw, and Angelina sighed even as she broke away from him.  "Aw!  C'mon, Angel!"

She stopped walking and turned to him.  "Fred, _you_ insisted on this dinner date; now I'll be damned if I get all _girly_ and have no dinner to show for it.  We're going."

He'd stopped listening after she said his name.  She really was lovely.

He walked to her with a grin.  "I've changed my mind.  I feel like gloating a bit."

Angelina frowned.  "What?  You've never given in so easily!  You don't have any of your products on you, do you?"

Fred laughed at her skepticism.  "No, love, I'm clean.  I just want to go in there and show you off; let everyone know you're _my_ woman!"

She glared at him.  "So I'm a trophy now, is that it?"

_Whoa!  Talk about irrational!_

"NO!  I mean, I'm proud that you chose me, love—"

"So _why_ do you want to 'show me off,' as you put it?"

Fred knew he was in trouble when she jutted her hips and placed her hands on them.  

He opened his mouth then closed it.  Whatever he said could make or break this night, and he'd be damned if he began the New Year with an incensed Angelina.

"You're right, love.  It was a totally sexist and insensitive thing for me to say.  The entire purpose of this date is to commemorate the first time I told you I loved you and the New Year.  I would be honored if you accompany me into the restaurant."

She frowned before she began to laugh.  Fred was frozen in fear for he didn't know if it was a good laugh or a bad laugh.

"Fred, come here," she said in-between giggles.  Fred walked up to her hesitantly until they were two feet apart.  She grinned at him and looped her arms around his neck.  His hands went to her waist automatically, and her grin widened.

"I love you."

Some of the tension he was feeling eased, and he smiled.  "I love you, too."

"For some reason, I am nervous."

His face fell.  "Why?"

She didn't answer him right away.  Instead she moved one of her hands from his neck and trailed a finger along his cheek, as if tracing the freckles she found there.

"I love you," she repeated.

Now he was nervous.  "Angelina?"

She wrapped her arms around him again and put her face to his neck.  "I love you so much, Fred."

Nervousness changed to fear.  "You are scaring me, love."

"I'm scared myself!  I just have this awful feeling something bad is going to happen to someone I love."

"But that doesn't mean it's going to be me . . ."

"But what if it _is_ you!?  I couldn't bear it—"

Fred had pulled away and placed a tender finger on her lips.  "Who am I, love?"

"You're Fred."

He gave a half-smile.  "Exactly.  And as you know, I am a Weasley and a Gryffindor."

"The perfect recipe for someone to go into danger head first," she deadpanned.

He chuckled slightly.  "That may be, but we're also the people who win, and we find our way back to our family.  It may take some longer than others, but we'll find our way back to the people we love."

"But don't you see?  I don't want you to _leave_ in the first place!"

He kissed her forehead.  "I'd never leave you willingly, love.  You should know that by now."

"I do."

"Then you trust me?"

She nodded.

"Then trust me when I say I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

She nodded again.

"Good."  He kissed her temple.  "Do you still want to go inside?"

She nodded, and they walked to the front door.  As the hostess checked for their reservations, he grinned down at her.

"You do realize once we go in there, I'll be forced to gloat."

She raised an amused eyebrow at him.  "Only if I can gloat, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ten!  Nine!  Eight!  Seven!  Six!  Five!  Four!  Three!  Two!  One!  _Happy New Year!_"

_Happy indeed.___

She'd never felt so alone in all her life, despite being surrounded by friends.  She missed Draco and wished he were with her at the moment.  Ron and Hermione were sharing small little kisses to bring in 1997, and Harry was staring at the portrait hole for some reason.

"Happy New Year, Harry," she said quietly.

He turned and smiled at her.  "Happy New Year, Ginny."

"C'mon, you two!  You can't bring in the New Year without a kiss!" Ron exclaimed.  Hermione and Ginny shot him a deathly glare, and Harry blushed.

"What if my foot 'kissed' your arse, would that do?" Ginny muttered.

"Ginny!  It's a _tradition!_" Ron whined.

"I should've never let Dobby bring those butterbeers up here," Hermione chastised herself.

"If I'm drunk, Hermione, it's not because of the butterbeers.  You do things to me, woman!"

Hermione blushed prettily, and Ginny chuckled.  Ron was good; she'd give that to her brother.

"So how about it, Gin?  A kiss for the New Year?"

She arched an eyebrow at Harry.  "Foot or lips?"

"Lips, if you please."

She hesitated for a bit before complying, giving him a small kiss on the cheek.

She was about to move away when his hand grasped her neck.  "I've seen Sirius."

She sucked in a wild breath of surprise and pulled back sharply.

"So it _was_ him!"

He looked at her pointedly.  "Yes.  He mentioned he saw you in the mirror.  Why didn't you _say _anything?  That happened months ago!"

She felt regret and indignation.  "I wasn't very well going to get your hopes up had I been wrong!  You didn't deserve that!  I saw your face when he didn't answer, and I couldn't bear to see that face again!"

They stared at each other for a few moments before Harry sighed in resignation.  "I know, Gin.  I'm sorry.  I guess I'm sore because I grieved for him for eight months when I didn't have to do so."

"I understand."

Harry seemed indecisive.  "I'm going to see him.  Want to come?"

She frowned and glanced back at Ron and Hermione.  "Aren't you going to ask them to come?"

He glanced at them briefly before turning his attention to her again.  "No.  Not yet.  Sirius doesn't want too many people knowing that he's here.  In fact, he really didn't want _me_ to know, but I kind of cornered Nia into letting me know . . ."

"Nia?  What does she have to do with any of this?"

"Remember when you told me to follow her?"  Ginny nodded.   "I did, and we went to the Potions classroom.  He'd been in the dungeons the entire time."

"As Snuffles, I'll bet," Ginny said.

"Right.  He barked, and I think he knew I was there.  Since Snape wasn't, he figured it was okay to see me."

"That was Christmas morning . . . speaking of which, I haven't seen Snape since.  I wonder if he is okay."

Harry gave her a weird look.  "Since when did you care about Snape?"

She shrugged.  "Since I had that dream, since Nia and he have been having problems, since I know he's a double agent."

"But in that dream—"

"Yes.  I know what I saw.  He didn't want to do that, Harry.  I'd never seen such despair in a man's eyes than when I looked into them in my dream."

She knew Harry wasn't so quick to forgive, so she changed the subject.  "Are we going or not?  And if we are, how do we do this without getting the lovebirds to follow?"

"We tell them we need to speak to Professor Roberts about our extra lessons.  They'll leave us alone then."

Ginny shrugged.  That seemed believable enough.

"Oi!  Ron and Hermione!  Ginny and I have to see Professor Roberts about our extra lessons!"

Ron raised his head from Hermione's neck and smirked at him.  "Sure you do, mate."

Both teens blushed, and the couple chuckled.

"_Ron!_"

"Leave them alone, Ron.  If they have 'extra lessons,' who are we to doubt?  You know I'm all for extra credit."

Ron growled appreciatively.  "Oh, you're a saucy woman, Hermione."

She grinned and kissed him.  "And I'm yours, too."

"Even better."

Ginny rolled her eyes and stuck her finger in her mouth.  Harry laughed and led her out the portrait hole.

"How can you stand it, Harry?" she asked as they went down the stairs.

He shrugged.  "I'm good at ignoring them."

"Well, kudos to you."

"Though I'll admit something."

"What's that?"

"I'm not nearly as immune to you and Malfoy.  Do you still like that git?  Even after . . ."

Ginny sighed.  She didn't know what to think or what to feel about him.  One reason she could forgive Snape was because he _had_ changed, and it was so obvious he loved Nia that Ginny couldn't do anything _but_ forgive.  Besides, Snape was a Death Eater and had proven his worth to the Order on numerous occasions—even if he was a bit surly.

Draco, on the other hand, had a less clearly defined side in this impending war, and it made him dangerous.  Despite being the reincarnate of Osiris, he was still Draco Malfoy first, and Draco Malfoy desperately wanted to please his father—even if it meant doing things he didn't necessarily want to do.

_Like become a Death Eater._

Ginny shivered at the prospect.  How could she find it in her heart to love a Death Eater, even if it was Draco Malfoy?  These were the people who followed Voldemort, people who believed in the purity of blood at all costs and who would kill and torture those who weren't or didn't without a moment's hesitation.

_But even in the dream, Draco hesitated; he seemed remorseful._

_But he still did it._

She had to remind herself it was a dream—a horrific one at that.  That scenario hadn't happened . . . _yet_, but could she condemn Draco for something that never happened or might not?

_No.  That would be unfair._

She was suddenly filled with the desperate need to see Draco, to remind herself he was the same insufferable spoiled brat who took her heart.

"Gin?"

She started at the sound of her name.  "What?"

"You never did answer my question—not verbally anyway."

She frowned.  "What do you mean?"

He chuckled shortly.  "You still like the tosser."

"Don't call him that," she said with a scowl.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Even _after_ that dream, you're still defending the wanker."

Her scowl deepened.  "It was a dream—"

"Which could very well turn into reality."

"Like hell it will!  I wouldn't fall in love with a bloke who would do something like that to me!"

The declaration bounced off the stone walls of the dungeon, and her eyes widened in horror.  She hadn't even realized they'd got here, so engrossed in her thoughts, she was.

Harry's lips pursed into a thin line.  "Now that we know where _you_ stand, guess there isn't any hope for me, is there?"

"Harry . . ."

He held up a hand to stop her.  "Save it, Gin.  You love the bloody wanker.  Who am I?"

"A very good friend."

He snorted.  "A very good friend who'd love the chance to be a fantastic boyfriend."

A smile tugged her lips.  "A bit full of ourselves, are we?"

"Of the truth?  Absolutely."

She rolled her eyes and began walking again.  "Right, Harry."

Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm, and she was whirled around so her back was against the wall.  A very intense Harry loomed over her.

Her heart began to beat faster.

"Harry?  What are you doing?"

"Just one little kiss, Ginny.  Just one."

"_What?_"  She tried to move away, but he was too big.

"Just one kiss," he repeated.

She sighed and began to fidget.  "I already gave you one—"

"That little thing?  Are you kidding me?  I want a real one."

"What's got into you?" she asked, her temper rising.

His eyes flitted over her face before locking on hers again.  "C'mon, Gin.  I need this.  For my sake.  I need to know if your feelings for the ferret are real."

She shoved him away from her in anger.  "You great, big, bloody _prat__!_  I cannot _believe_ your gall!  Who bloody gives a wank if _you_ believe my feelings are real?  Because _I_ sure as hell don't!  I _cannot_ believe this."  She stormed off in the opposite direction only to have Harry spin her around again.

"Harr—"

Her first thought was his lips were cold, nothing like the warm feeling of Draco's lips.  It was absolutely the most horrific kiss she'd ever received.  Even Neville's clumsy attempt had more feeling than this did.

It was like kissing a rock, or worse, her _brother._

"So . . . this is what happens when I go away . . ."

"Oh!"  She shoved Harry away hard, and his back slapped against the wall.

Snape, Nia, Sirius, and Draco were all in the corridor staring at the couple.  Draco's face was blank as he stared at her.

"Draco!  It's not what you—"

Draco put a finger to his lips and shook his head.  "Shhh."  Draco turned to Snape and nodded.  "I think I will do that research project we talked about, Professor."

Snape's lip curled in disgust at Harry and Ginny before he replied.  "Meet me in my office tomorrow morning.  We will go over the necessary details then."

Draco nodded and, with a final empty stare at Ginny, walked down the corridor, stopping next to a suit of armor.  The wall vanished, and he walked through it.

She mouthed his name, too overcome with grief to find her voice.

"I am experiencing a severe case of déjà vu at the moment; aren't you, Black?"  The Potions Master sneered at them one last time before he pivoted quickly and walked back into his classroom.  Ginny looked at the younger girl plaintively.

"Nia . . ."

She stared at her, at Harry, hurt clearly on her face.  "Well, Happy New Year to you."  Nia chuckled hollowly and followed in the direction Draco went.

"Sirius . . ." Harry began.

The older man shook his head sadly.  "I can't help you with this, Harry; I'm sorry."  Sirius went in the classroom as well and closed the door behind him, leaving the pair alone in the hallway.  Harry looked remorseful.

"Gin, I—"

"Not a _word,_ Potter.  Not one damn word."

Ginny was hacked off; _never_ did she think Harry would blatantly disrespect her wishes as he did.

"I didn't mean—"

"Shut.  _UP!_  Don't you _dare _compound this problem by _lying_ to me!  Did you see his face, Harry?  Did you?  Bad enough you have to beat him at everything, but to do this was just _beyond_ sick!"

"But what he did to you was okay?" he snarled.

Ginny was so upset she could scream.  "He hasn't _done_ anything, Harry!  Nothing but be the best boyfriend I could've ever asked for!  What did you think you'd gain from that kiss?"

"I wanted to prove I was better for you."

She laughed sardonically.  "Well, _congratulations!_  You just proved the bloody opposite!  _Never_ have I felt such disgust for another human being than I do right now!"

"Gin, that's not fair!"

She looked at him with incredulity.  "Are you bleeding off your rocker?  Of course that's fair!  I don't know where you got this sense of entitlement, but you better get rid of it and quick.  I don't _like_ you anymore, Harry!  Not romantically and, at the moment, not platonically either.  Not only did you hurt me and Draco, you hurt Nia too."

"Why would it matter to her?" he asked, but his voice was flimsy.

Ginny chuckled evilly.  "Oh, you bloody know.  You only deny it."

"Ginny, she's thirteen years old."

"Yes, she is, but that doesn't mean she can't have feelings for you, Harry.  That doesn't mean you can't have feelings for _her._  Sure, it may not be the best time to act on them, but to blatantly disregard them is—ugh!  I can't even _look_ at you right now!"

She spun on her heel and began to walk back to the main corridor.  She was whirled again, but this time she used her momentum to spin him to the wall.

"Touch me again without my permission, and I swear to Merlin, Potter, you will regret it."

His green eyes mirrored his regret.  "I'm sorry, Ginny.  I really am."

Ginny closed her eyes as she felt the sting of her tears.  She knew he meant it but was too angry and sad to care.

"You know what?  So am I."

She pushed away from him and continued her progress to the corridor.  It wasn't until she reached the sixth landing she finally let herself cry.


	17. Seventeen

_Seventeen_

This had to be the worst training session they'd ever had.

And it hadn't even started yet.

As it was, the training sessions had been tense since January, and Jamilah was forced to switch partners so they were partnered with their same sex.

_That_ had been an interesting maneuver; having two enemies training together with real weapons and real moves.  She was surprised one of them hadn't died yet.

It didn't help Valentine's Day was four days away that Friday, so tensions were particularly running high this week.  It was so thick you couldn't cut it with a chainsaw.

They sat at the desks, looking rather bored.

"Today for training we are going to do something that is just as important as fighting—talking."

"Talking?"

Jamilah nodded.  "Yes.  Talking.  You four are going to talk about _whatever_ issues are goin' on between y'all because it's affectin' y'all's ability to train and train well!  Y'all are lazy and slack one minute then hyper and rash the next.  Neither of these extremes is acceptable for this training, nor for the situations y'all'll find yourself in when you go out into the real world.  You four betta take this seriously.  You don't realize what's at stake—"

"That's a large part of the problem, isn't it?  We don't know _why_ the hell we're here in the first place!"

Jamilah glared at the black-haired boy.  "First off: watch your language, Potter.  Second off: that's a moot point.  Y'all know why y'all are here, even if no one's explicitly told y'all."

"But Grandma—" Nia began.

"No buts!  You four will sit there and will _not_ leave until y'all at least _sincerely_ agree to be civil with each other."

"Yes, Professor Roberts," they droned in unison.

"Good.  I'll be back towards the end of our allotted time.  Please have made some headway by then . . ."

The door seemed to thunder shut as the professor left the room.  All four students looked pointedly elsewhere than at each other; it was enough to drive Nia insane.  She sighed and left her desk to sit against the wall by the door.  She leaned her head against it and closed her eyes.  She heard the others leave their desks as well but didn't open her eyes to see where.

_Talk . . . how does one talk when they can't figure out what to say?_

As it was, she was having conflicting emotions about the entire situation—more specifically, about Harry.  At the end of the year, the Boy Who Lived got on her nerves, even if he had habits that endeared her to him; perhaps this was because she listened to Draco rag on him so much during the year.  Even still, she wasn't as firm in her dislike as Draco was.  The entire summer she'd been more focused on the shared dreams they had and the weird things her body was doing—besides growing and filling out in certain places.  When she first saw Harry at the beginning of the current school term, she'd never been so embarrassed in her life.  She was mad at Crabbe for pushing her, yes, but she was angrier she fell on top of Harry.  Nia knew she wasn't the most beautiful thing on two legs; she even knew she was heavy (as if her grandmother didn't keep reminding her every time they saw each other).  She became short with Harry, lashing out at him for making her feel something other than cool indifference.  Like all the other girls at school, she noticed Harry's new height and healthier frame, and even Slytherin girls were cooing over him but their approval was framed in backhanded comments.

It was enough to make her sick.

It didn't help Harry had been particularly nasty to her then; letting her know about Snape in a most insensitive way all but sealed her dislike for the Gryffindor, but even still it could never reach Malfoy levels.

But then they'd started to train, and Jamilah put them as training partners.  Any issues they'd had with each other had to be left at the door or the training would not go smoothly.  Though he was always the first to finish laps, he'd come and run with her to the end, egging her on and being her own personal cheerleader.  At first she was confused and a little disturbed by his help but appreciated it nonetheless.  Draco and Ginny were far too absorbed in each other, so Harry and Nia were forced to be at the very least cordial to each other.  But the cordiality soon gave way into easy companionship.  Nia was hard pressed to call it a full-out friendship because that would imply certain tender feelings, feeling she wasn't prepared to label at the moment.

She snorted.  It didn't much matter if she were mentally ready or not because emotionally it was painfully clear.

She liked Harry Potter.

Nia groaned in bemusement.

Perhaps that's why it hurt to see Harry kissing Ginny.  She knew the boy pined for the redhead, and she knew it burned Harry Ginny chose his worst enemy over him.  Nia was too young, too big, too _Slytherin_ for Harry's taste, and he'd never see her as more than a training partner.

She was jealous of Ginny Weasley.

Jealous was maybe too harsh a word, but it was the only one Nia could think of at the moment.  Ginny Weasley was tall, creamy-skinned, smart, witty, and no-holds barred—the perfect girl for guys such as Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.  It would only be fitting the two most popular boys in the school would like Ginny.  The mere fact she was a Weasley and a Gryffindor added to the allure of her—Harry because he wanted a family and she provided an instant one, and Draco because she was everything his father was against, a perfect way to rebel.

Nia shook her head.  That wasn't fair to Draco.  She knew he loved Ginny and very much.  In fact it was the only reason he even agreed to the plan Snape suggested that night—the same night they found Harry kissing Ginny in the corridors.

It was the perfect scapegoat, to be sure.  Draco Malfoy defecting to the Dark Side because of a broken heart.

She opened her eyes and looked beside her.  Draco was trying not to stare at Ginny, but his eyes would go to her anyway.  She never thought she'd see him so besotted, even if she only knew him for a year.  When he came back with Snape on New Year's, he'd been white as a ghost; not hard considering he was the palest thing she'd ever seen, but it still concerned her.  She'd been in the Potions classroom talking to Sirius (she loved his stories about her mother and her friends . . . they had some crazy adventures!) when the two of them Portkeyed into the workroom.  Both she and Sirius went inside to see both men looking very grim.  Nia's hackles immediately went up, and even Sirius seemed concerned; after all, he _was_ Draco's cousin even if he didn't like Draco's father.  Snape wanted her to leave but Draco wanted her to stay; he felt Nia needed to hear much of what was going on, so she could explain to Ginny if need be.

_Explain what? _was the obvious first question, and both seemed hesitant to answer.  Sirius gave Snape and Draco an appraising look then muttered, "Not again," in a dejected groan.  Snape merely nodded and said, "Yes, again."  Nia became nervous of what the affirmation implied.

Draco became a spy for the Order that night, the same role Snape was currently holding.  He didn't have the Dark Mark, at the clever insistence of Snape.  The Mark was a sure fire way to ruin whatever upper hand the Dark side thought they had.  Speculation was far more powerful than affirmation, and even Voldemort realized the benefits of having a real undercover spy.

Or so he thought.

Nia knew the plan was good in theory; she just hoped it didn't backfire.  She was afraid Draco would be put in a situation similar to that of her mother and Snape, or worse.  Draco would never want to do anything that would hurt Ginny, but if it came to that, she knew Draco would want to be the one to do it and not some other guy; at least he could be as gentle as possible.

Nia desperately prayed it never came to that.

"I miss you."

They were the first words spoken between the four in a month and a half, and it was Ginny who said them.  All eyes went on the redhead as she rested her chin on her raised legs.  Her eyes were closed, clearly trying to keep tears at bay.  Nia looked at Draco who stared straight ahead, not sparing the brokenhearted girl a glance.

He was being difficult.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I really am.  I never meant to hurt you," Ginny said, her voice thick.  Draco closed his eyes and swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing from the action.  Nia felt eyes on her, and she glanced to Harry.

_What?_ she mouthed.

_Forgive me?_ came his silent reply.

Nia looked at him confusedly and shrugged.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Ginny interrupted him.

"I love you, Draco, so much."

Nia saw Harry wince out the corner of her eye.  She was torn between gloating and feeling pity for the boy.  Draco, on the other hand, hadn't moved a muscle and continued to stare ahead.

"Draco . . ." Ginny implored softly.

"I knew you were down there that night, Ginny.  I felt you."

Ginny opened her eyes but did not look at the blonde boy beside her.  Both stared at the wall before them, not ready to look at each other but both ready to listen.

Finally.

"I felt you, and I became so happy, the happiest I'd ever been in my life, especially after a particularly dismal Christmas holiday.  I couldn't wait to see you.  I felt your emotions; I knew you were anxious about something, but I didn't know what.  I immediately became concerned, and I walked out of the classroom even as Snape was speaking to me.  My worry for you became more important than anything the professor had to say.  Imagine my surprise to see you sucking face with Potty."

The other three jerked at the crude term, and Harry let out a hiss.

"Malfoy—"

"Shut it, Potter.  I'm doing the talking now."

Harry glared at Draco but did as he was told.

"I was so hurt.  I couldn't stand to hear your voice at the moment, and there was nothing more I desired than to slap the stupid smug look on Harry's face.  But a Malfoy feeling anything or showing irrationality was a sign of weakness.  I left you there, vowing I would stay away from you, clearly forgetting I had training sessions with you every other day.  But as I lay my head on the pillow, I finally allowed myself feel.  And what I felt put my mind at ease.  Anger, regret, pain, despair—everything I was feeling, you were feeling.  It was then I knew you didn't want him to kiss you any more than _I_ wanted him to kiss you."

"Draco . . ."

"Shhh," he said, putting a finger to his mouth.  "Shh, Little Weasel.  I need to finish.  When Professor Roberts put Potty and I to train together, never had I been happier.  I could beat the fucking bastard to a bloody pulp all under the guise of training.  You have Nia to thank for that."

Harry's glare shifted to Nia, and she smiled sweetly at him.

"I could beat him for thinking he had a right to you, for taking advantage of you, for trying to separate me from you.  I could beat him here where I couldn't on the Quidditch pitch, in public opinion, in my father's grudging respect for him—if respect is the right word.  I could beat him for hurting Nia so callously, for dipping his lion-headed arse where it doesn't belong.  But no, the bloody wanker and I are too evenly matched here."

"I told you before, Draco.  You're good enough for me."

"I don't want to be 'good enough,' Ginger; that implies there's always someone who could come along and be better.  When I saw him kissing you, I had the sinking dread that Potter would be it . . . _again . . ._"

"But he's not!  I don't love Harry, Draco!  Not the way I love you, I don't.  Sooner or later, Harry will have to square with that and realize there's someone else he's supposed to be with, and then he'll forget all about little ole me," Ginny said emphatically.

"Ouch," Harry muttered.

Ginny snapped her head in his direction.  "Did it hurt good, Harry?  I hope it did.  Maybe you can catch a glimpse into my life for the past month and a half!"

Harry's shoulders slumped, and Nia felt compelled to defend him.

"That's not fair, Ginny.  He said he was sorry."

Draco turned to face her, and he grinned.  "I told you last year, Nia, didn't I?"

"Told me what?"  She knew it was a mistake to play dumb with Malfoy, but she did it anyway.

He smirked at her, and she felt immediate dislike.  "That you were smitten with Golden Boy over there."

Nia glowered at him then looked at the floor.  "Am not," she muttered.

She felt three sets of eyes on her, and she wished the floor would eat her.

"And what's worse is Harry knows it, too, don't you, Harry?" Ginny accused, her voice hardening as she said his name.

His gaze turned sad as he stared at Nia.  "Yeah, I knew . . ."

Nia laughed sadly.  "Looks like the joke's on everyone, ain't it?  What a group we've turned out to be."

"But I had to kiss Ginny.  I had to, I needed to see—"

"If I actually loved Draco?  That's not your place to decide!  I _told_ you!  I told you before you kissed me!"

"We know.  You said it pretty loudly, love."

"Exactly!  Even Draco—_what?_"

The Gryffindors were staring at the Slytherins anxiously and indignantly.  Draco bit his lip, desperately trying not to laugh at Ginny's snarled question.  Nia looked at her twiddling thumbs.

"You _heard_ me declare I loved you?"  Ginny's tone was quiet, and Nia felt sympathy for Draco.

He had no idea what was coming to him.

Draco nodded and grinned at Ginny.  "Every blessed word."

Ginny turned red.  "How—how _could_ you do this to me?!  How could you make me feel so guilty all this time?!"

"I didn't make you feel anything, love."

Ginny growled and slapped his arms roughly and repeatedly.  "Do you know how much _time_ has been wasted because of this?  How much I've _missed_ you?  Damn you, Malfoy!  Damn you to hell!"

"If you're going to blame anyone, blame Nia.  It was _her _idea in the first place!"

Ginny stopped hitting him and narrowed her eyes at the younger girl.  "Well?"

Nia looked at Ginny head on.  "Well, what?"

"Why did you do it?"

Nia cut her eyes at Harry before she responded.  "All to get Harry back for kissing you against your will, but we had to pretend to be mad at you to make it believable."

"I could get my revenge without having to dirty a finger; it was a brilliant plan."

"So all that stuff about being hurt, that was just a bunch of crock?" Ginny asked.

Draco shook his head.  "I was really hurt, but I saw your face, and I saw what I was feeling reflected in you.  I knew you wouldn't betray me like that."

"And you got your revenge through me because you knew I'd make his life a living hell.  And the only way you could do that is not talk to me because if we made up Harry wouldn't suffer as much."

"Especially during the training sessions; I _really_ wanted to get a few good whacks in . . ."

Ginny looked at Draco and Nia with disbelief before smirking.  "Nia, that was bloody brilliant.  If I doubted your Slytherin qualities before, I sure don't now . . ."

Nia shrugged.  "Ain't no thang . . ."

All throughout the exchange, Harry had been silently fuming and glaring at the floor.

"Roberts."

Her blood ran cold.  Never had she heard such hardness coming from Harry.

"Potter."

The three of them watched in fascination as Harry went to the weapons display and took down a sword and a bo stick.  He stood in front of Nia and held out the weapons.

"Choose."

Nia's eyes narrowed.  "Bo stick," she answered as she stood.  He tossed it to her, and she caught it effortlessly.

"First to three wins," he said mechanically.

Nia frowned.  "Harry, what is—"

She barely missed the swipe of Harry's blade as she twisted her body to dodge it.

_Oh, it's like that, huh?_

She was ready for the next attack, and she parried her stick to meet his blade.  They stared at each other before she spun around and threw out the stick.  Harry evaded the first blow but wasn't able to duck the next as it caught his feet, tripping him to the mat.  Nia ran to deliver a blow to his stomach when his sword caught the flesh of her left forearm.

"One."

His smirk and his tone riled her up and she backed away from him, trying to regain her wits.

"Don't let that shake you, Nia," Draco called.  His voice sounded far away to her ears; all she was concerned about was the arrogant punk in front of her.  Her arm stung, and blood created a trail as she moved.  She didn't care; Harry would pay for that.

They circled each other, trying to find a relatively safe opening to attack.  She frowned and focused on the side of his face then moved back to him.  Harry's face contorted in confusion, and he moved his eyes briefly to where hers were trained.  It was all the opening she needed.  She swiped the stick three times before ramming the blunt end into his stomach.

"One."

Harry didn't give her time to gloat for he swung the sword down heavily, breaking the stick in two parts.  Nia's body sagged with the force of the blow, and Harry took advantage of her disquieted state.  The sword's edge caught the side of her torso, tearing the black form-fitting wife-beater she wore.

Another cut, another point.

"Two."

Nia growled in frustration and rolled out the way of another attack.  Harry loomed over her, prepared to win the third and final point when she placed a nice kick in his groin area.

"Score!" Draco exclaimed happily.

Harry groaned and dropped to one knee on the mat.  Nia twirled her two sticks in her hands for a better grip and caught the back of Harry's knee with one of them.  Harry grunted again and fell on his back with a hard thud.  He almost lost his grip on the sword but regained it just in time.

_Dangit!  But at least I got a point anyway._

"Two," she said, even as she prepared her final blow.  She aimed for the wrist of his sword hand, but he was too quick for her.  Harry's foot kicked her legs, and she collapsed from the force.  He got on his knees ready to strike again, but his blade caught one of the bo sticks instead.  Nia hissed in pain as she aggravated the cut on her torso by stretching to block Harry's strike against her back.  Harry changed targets and aimed for her arm, but the other half of her stick blocked the parry as well.  She elbowed him, smirking with satisfaction as she realized she hit his groin again.  He doubled over, and she spun to a standing position, disheartened a bit he reached a standing position as well.

"You're determined to ruin my chances to have children, aren't you Roberts?" he said in panted breaths.

"Just doin' the world a favor, Potter."

A corner of his mouth lifted.  "Can you feel my pain now?"

Her mouth dropped as she saw his eyes flit to her crotch before she remembered herself.  

She scoffed.  "What's to feel?  You ain't got nothin' there anyway!"

"Can that be an honorary point?" Draco asked.  "I vote honorary point."

"Fuck off, Malfoy!"  Harry's cheeks turned red, and she grinned.

"Quit stallin' and let me beat you already," she said.

"I'd sooner kiss Malfoy."

"I changed my mind.  Let Harry beat you, Nia.  For the love of _Merlin,_ let him beat you!" Draco pleaded.

"Fine.  I win, Potter, and you smooch."

He grinned.  "Agreed."

She raised an eyebrow and prepared her weapons.  Harry did the same.

Nia lunged first, and Harry sidestepped her easily.  He thought to take advantage of her forward momentum and brought his sword down to connect with her shoulder blade, but she moved it out of the way in the nick of time.  Nia whirled and flung her bo stick out.  The weapon hit his back, and Harry let out an _oof_ at the contact.  He landed on the ground with a thud, and she pumped her fist in the air triumphantly.

"_Nooo!  Nia!  _Didn't you _hear_ me?!" Draco said in a mock wail.  She giggled at Draco's antics and looked down at the fallen boy before her.  Harry rolled onto his back on the mat, favoring his right arm.

"Oh quit playin', Harry, and get up!"

"I think you broke my arm," he moaned.

She lifted her eyes to the heavens for help as she gingerly kneeled by his side.  No sooner had her knees hit the mat than he rolled over and pinned her against it.  Her sides protested against the rough movement, and she winced.

They were a breath's space apart.

Neither said a word.

_His green eyes have specks of gold._  She closed her eyes at that observation, cursing herself for being affected as she was.  She chalked it up to being close to Valentine's Day.  Opening her eyes again, she found Harry staring intently at her.

She cleared her throat.  "Three."

He nodded a little.  "Three."

Her eyes darted to the scar on his head then back to his eyes.  "I won."

He closed his eyes briefly and shrugged.  "Seems that way."

She licked her lips and noticed his eyes drifting to them.  "Time for you to pucker up, then."

"He really doesn't _have_ to . . ." Draco interjected.

Nia shook her head.  "A deal's a deal."

"Yeah, Malfoy . . . a deal's a deal . . ."

He didn't move from her.

"Do I look like Malfoy to you?"

"Nah . . . you're easier on the eyes."

"Oi!  I resent that!" came Draco's muffled reply.

Nia moved her head to look past Harry.  Ginny was sitting in between Draco's legs with her back leaning against his chest.  Draco nibbled her neck, and Ginny giggled.

"Does she taste good, Dragon?"

Draco lifted his head and smirked at her.  "Like Bailey's Cream."

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking that?" Ginny asked with an arched eyebrow.

Draco nipped Ginny's jaw.  "I'm too young to do a lot of thing, love; doesn't mean I don't do it."

Ginny grinned and brought his lips to hers.  Nia rolled her eyes and rested her head back on the mat, looking at Harry expectantly.

"Well?"

"You win, I 'smooch,' remember?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Of _course_ I remember!  So why are you still here?"

"When we made the deal, we never specified who."

Nia looked indignant.  "We agreed on Malfoy!"

Harry shook his head and moved a lock of hair from her forehead.  She cursed her body's shiver even as Harry smirked at it.  "You never specified a name when we made it official.  You assumed Malfoy."

She looked at his scar, for his eyes were making her stomach do funny things.  "And who did you assume?"

His thumb and forefinger grasped her chin lightly.  "Oh, I figured you were as good as any."

She glared at him.  "Oh, there's a nice thing to say!  'I can't kiss the girl I really want, but you're not so bad, you'll do!'  Like I said, Malfoy's over there, waiting to have one of your passionate smooches."

"And _I _said I'd rather kiss you."

Nia began to squirm.  "You're heavy, Harry."

"You're scared, Nia."

_Flippin' punk!_

She bit her lip, and Harry's eyes went to them again.  "You have peculiar interest in my lips, Potter."

He grinned, still staring at her lips.  "Perhaps this is because I should be kissing them now."

Nia smirked.  "Who said you were going to kiss me on my lips?"

He frowned.  "But you said—"

"If you can take liberties with the terms of the deal so can I.  Cheek only."

_You _know_ you want him to kiss you on your lips . . ._

_Shut up._

Harry sighed, but his eyes had a mischievous glint to them.  "Which—"

"On my _face, _you dipwad.  You can kiss my butt another time."

"Dipwad?  What happened to punk?"

"Didn't feel like saying that.  Look, are you gonna kiss me or not?"

He didn't answer her.  With his eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head to hers, letting his nose rub gently against hers.  Nia's amber eyes widened, and she felt his smile.  Harry turned his head to the side, and his lips were centimeters away from her cheek.

Suddenly she tensed.  "Harry, get off me!"  She kicked him off her with a burst of strength and rolled to her side.  No sooner had Harry got off her than the door opened.

"What in _heaven's name_ is goin' on here?!"

Nia moaned.  She forgot about the cuts Harry gave her, and they made their presence known.

"Nia, you're bleeding!  _Why_ are you bleeding?!  I thought I said only to talk!"

"Harry and I decided to talk with our weapons.  I won the argument . . ." she muttered.

Nia couldn't see her eyes, but she heard the incredulity in Jamilah's voice.  "_Won?  _It looks like he cut you up!"

"He _did,_" Nia ground out.

"The only reason you won is because you used 'vocabulary' I didn't understand."

"You should learn to pick up a dictionary, Harry.  Ron did, and look what he got because of it," Ginny said sweetly.

Jamilah grunted.  "Huh.  Well, since you deemed it to cut each other, you can also heal each other.  I was thinking of letting you have Valentine's Day off, but not you two.  Draco and Ginny, y'all are free to go, and you don't have to come on Friday.  Harry and Nia, go to the hospital wing."

"Why can't Ginny do it?" Harry asked.

Nia finally got into a sitting position and saw Jamilah stare at the other girl with a look of apprehension.  "It would just be best if she didn't.  Dumbledore and I haven't talked enough about it to deem it safe."

"_Safe?_  She healed my arm; no thanks to _Roberts_ over here."

"Piss off, Potter!"

"Nia Aset Roberts!"

Nia cut her eyes to the ceiling before looking at her grandmother.

"Extra laps for you Wednesday, then," Jamilah said with nonchalance.

Nia gnashed her teeth to prevent another outburst.  She felt Harry's smug look on her and wished nothing more to start round two.

"As it is, our time is up.  You two, hospital wing," Jamilah said, pointing to Nia and Harry before moving to Draco and Ginny.  "You two, your respective Houses.  Next time, _leave_ your personal problems outside the door.  Just because we're not in class doesn't mean my rules don't still apply."

"Yes, ma'am," all the students replied.

"Now shoo.  I'll talk to Poppy in the morning to make sure you two made it there."

"But Grandma!  Can't we just go to Professor Snape's office instead?  He's closer, and I know he has healing potions . . ."

Jamilah gave them an appraising look.  "Oh _fine_, might as well.  Ginny, you can go with, so you and Harry walk back upstairs together.  We may be in Hogwarts, but Peeves is feeling particularly mischievous as of late."

The four students smirked at each other.

"All right, off you go then.  _Try_ not to kill each other on the way down, hmm?"

They nodded.  Nia tried to move but realized her cuts made it uncomfortable.  She let out a betraying hiss, and her face contorted with discomfort.

"Up we go . . ." a voice said from behind her.  Nia felt strong hands hook under her arms as they eased her on her feet.  Her body began to shake again.

"Thanks."

"Can you walk?"

She sucked her teeth.  "You cut my body not my legs."

Harry shook his head and moved his hands to grasp her arm.

"You two, go ahead . . . we'll meet you there."

Nia chuckled.  "Sure you won't.  C'mon, you two.  Let's go."

The couple scowled at her, and she laughed.  "Save it for Valentine's Day."

Draco smiled at Ginny.  "Can't wait until then . . ."

"Upchuck," Nia muttered and began to walk faster than her torso will allow.

"You sure seem in a hurry to be rid of me," Harry whispered in her ear.

Nia jumped then cursed herself again.  "All you seem to do is hurt me when we're together.  Forgive me if I'm not a masochist."

"Masochist?  How would you know—oh yeah . . . you're a Slytherin."

Nia huffed and jerked her arm from his grasp, a move she regretted as she felt blood drip from her wounds.  "Why does Grandma insist we train with real weapons?"

Harry shrugged.  "I guess so we're not surprised when the real thing happens."

"Last time I checked, people in _this_ world use wands.  Perhaps we should do magic."

"She's _your_ grandmother; maybe you should tell her."

She glared at him as she walked down the stairs to the dungeons.  Nia was grateful Harry didn't say anything as they made their way to the Potions classroom.  She reached her hand to grasp the doorknob of the room but instead closed around Harry's hand.

"Potter?"

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged her shoulders.  "People get hurt when they fight; it's to be expected."  She felt his hands slide under her top and run along her injuries.  She sucked in a breath at the contact.  His fingers were rough, but they felt soothing all the same.

"Not only for this.  I meant for everything . . . for hurting you."

She glanced at his eyes and returned to staring at the door.  "What's it to you, anyway?"

He didn't answer for a moment as he continued to run his fingers over her wounds.  "These hurt something bloody awful."

"Right."

"I feel them, Nia.  They hurt."

_Oh yeah.  The flippin' link.  Is there a way to turn it off?_

"The only reason you're sorry is because you can feel it?  What a Slytherin attitude," she spat.

"Nia . . ."

"Let me go, Potter.  The sooner Snape cleans my wound the sooner you'll stop hurting."  She let go of his hand and opened the door, leaving Harry to stand in the hallway.  She felt tears sting her eyes, and she became upset.

"I'm not talking about the wounds, Nia, not the flesh wounds, anyway."

She turned and stared at him.  Harry met her gaze head on.

"I don't think there's a potion for that, Harry."

He smiled at the use of his name.  "Then I reckon I'll have to find another way."

She turned and began walking to Snape's office.  "I reckon you do."


	18. Eighteen

_Eighteen_

"Oh bloody _hell!_"

This was not good, not good at all, and she knew it.

_Ginny! Couldn't you be more discreet?!_

Apparently she couldn't, as the youngest Weasley linked hands with the silver-haired Slytherin.

They had just finished a Quidditch game, Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw by only a hair—thanks to a last minute goal by Ginny and the catch from Harry. As the crowd made its way back to the castle, Hermione took it upon herself to look for Ron who was more than likely just finishing his post-game speech.

Unfortunately, she found Ginny and Draco instead, who were slowly creeping together for a kiss.

_If Ron sees them like this, he will kill Malfoy . . . what's a girl to do?_

Her Gryffindor honor won out, and she strode to the oblivious couple.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "_Hem, hem."_

She got the desired reaction. They separated quickly, Draco almost tripping over his robes and Ginny facing away from them, her hand on her chest.

"What's wrong with you, Mudblood, coming up to people like that?!" Malfoy sneered.

"I'm saving your scrawny little neck, but if you'd rather it be in two pieces, then continue to snog each other in broad daylight where Ron can see!" she said just as venomously.

"Didn't require you to sound like Umbitch, you know," Ginny scowled.

"Something tells me if I sounded like _Hermione_ nothing would've happened."

"In case you haven't noticed, all of us are prefects, so why do we have to listen to you?" Malfoy challenged.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips. "Fine. _Don't_ listen to me. All I have to say is 'good riddance' when Ron finally figures it out. I've been covering for you two since _last year_ when Nia let it slip Ginny liked you. But if you don't want to heed my warning, then don't. Seeing your head on a stick is just as good as seeing it on that beanpole body of yours."

He smirked. "You've been staring at my body, Granger? I'll admit I am a fine specimen, but I usually don't frolic in muck."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush—both at the mention of his body and at his slight of her. She wasn't blind; Draco had definitely come into his own during the past year. He was, of course, shorter than Ron, but not by much, and leaner as well. But his body was formed into a model that couldn't be called anything but beautiful. There was a grace about Malfoy that made him awesome and awful at the same time.

But he would never compare to her Ron.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I wouldn't touch your 'fine specimen' if we were the last two people on earth and mankind would end with us."

"Then we are in agreement on something."

"Anyway, shouldn't you been in the locker rooms listening to Ron's speech?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It's the same thing after every game!"

Hermione frowned. "This is only the second game with Ron as captain."

Ginny blushed at her miscalculation. "Oh fine! I didn't want to go. I promised Draco I'd meet him after the game . . . He was supposed to congratulate me . . ."

"Congratulate you, huh?"

"Look, Granger, why don't you go find your git of a boyfriend and 'congratulate' _him!?_"

Hermione glared at him. "The only git I see at the moment is you."

"Maybe I should enlarge your eyes, so that way you can get those fixed, too."

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth as she remembered the curse Malfoy put on her during their fourth year. Her teeth had grown to astronomical proportions during one Potions class and Snape's insult, "I see no difference," was just icing on the cake. Luckily the upswing of the entire ordeal was shrinking her teeth to the size she wanted.

She dropped her hands and smiled a toothy smile. "I never did thank you for that, did I, Malfoy?" Hermione said, sickeningly sweet. "Had it not been for you I wouldn't be able to have the smile I've always wanted. Have you considered dentistry?"

Malfoy scowled at her and began to stalk towards her. "Shut up, Mudblood, or I'll—"

"You'll _what_, Ferret? Just _what_ do you plan to do?"

Hermione smiled smugly at the Slytherin as he stepped back from her. She felt the strong arm of her boyfriend come around her shoulder as he pulled her close to him. He smelled of sweat, pine and Ron, and Hermione became heady at the aroma. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he kissed the top of her head. She saw Draco roll his eyes at the display and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want, Weasel."

Ron scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. You're the son of a Death Eater, not exactly Mr. Popular now, are we? I'll bet McGonagall's just itching for a way to revoke your prefect's badge, and believe me, I'm right along with her."

"I guess you have an itch you can't scratch then. I'm not going anywhere . . ."

Ron was about to reply when Hermione felt him tense. "Ron?"

"What are you doing hanging around my sister anyway? Ginny! Why weren't you in the locker room as I went over game points!?"

"Draco said he needed to talk to me—" Ginny snapped her mouth shut as she blushed.

Malfoy glared at Ginny before rolling his eyes to the heavens. Ron was coiled like a cat ready to pounce.

"Draco? That's the second time I've heard you call him such. What's going on between you two?"

"We're patrolling partners, Ron," Ginny replied off-handedly.

"So are Parkinson and I, and I have yet to call her by her name," Hermione offered with mock innocence. Draco and Ginny glared at her, and she hid a chuckle in Ron's chest.

"Now's not the time for that, love. I'm trying to be angry, and you're making me mad with wanting you," Ron whispered to her.

Hermione merely snuggled closer to him.

"Are we done here?" Draco asked in a bored tone.

Hermione felt Ron stiffen again. "Like hell we are! I want to know why my sister had to talk with Draco," he snarled, putting the other boy's name in air quotes.

"You don't need to know. That's between me and the Little Weasel."

Ron laughed hollowly. "Even when Ginny shows you a slight bit of humanity, you still have to taunt her."

"Who says I'm taunting her? Maybe she likes it when I call her that . . ."

"My sister wouldn't like it if you called her the Queen of England!"

"Now wait a minute, Ron . . . let's not go making false claims here," Ginny said, her hands out to stay his words.

"No? Then what if I called her a goddess . . . _my_ goddess . . ."

Draco was looking at Ginny with a soft expression, and Hermione gasped.

_Dare I think he actually _cares_ for Ginny . . . that _must_ not be possible. He's a Malfoy!_

"She's not 'your' _anything,_ you bloody prat! Get away from her! I _knew_ that 'random' list was a crock! I'll talk to McGonagall first thing once we get to the castle!" Ron promised.

"You can't do anything. Remember, the list is final, and unless Little Weasel and I have problems, it can't be changed. So tough nougats."

Ron's arm left Hermione's shoulders, and he advanced to the arrogant Slytherin.

"Fine then, guess I'll have to beat you to a bloody pulp instead . . ."

"You will do no such thing, Ronald Weasley, so back off!" Ginny said, stepping in front of Draco.

Ron was nonplussed. "_What _are you doing?!"

"Keeping you out of detention, and keeping you with a prefect's badge," Ginny snarled.

"There's no prefect's badge in the world worth the sight of a bleeding Malfoy," Ron said with a smirk.

"Likewise, Weasel, likewise."

Hermione stood next to Ron and put a hand on his arm. "She's right, Ron. Malfoy is not worth the effort. He'll get what's coming to him soon enough."

"Everything I've ever dreamed of, Granger? You're right. I already have it," Draco said as he gazed at Ginny. The younger girl blushed prettily, and Ron let out a gasp.

"Oh _hell!_ You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"What are you talking about, Ron?"

Hermione had to hand it to Ginny; she was playing ignorant right until the very end.

"Did that dream teach you _nothing?_ He's scum! He's Slytherin scum, Ginevra!"

"What dream?" Malfoy asked with a frown of confusion on his face.

If Ron's glare could kill, Malfoy would be dead. "About you _raping_ her, that's what!"

Malfoy jerked as if he'd been slapped, a reaction that surprised Hermione. Ron seemed to be caught off guard by the movement as well.

"Little Weasel?"

Hermione had never seen Ginny so angry in her life. She shot daggers at her brother before turning to Malfoy. "It's just a dream—"

"With you and Nia, it's _never_ 'just a dream!' You know that as well as I!"

"Draco—"

"No, Ginny, don't 'Draco' me. Don't . . ." He moved his hand as if shoving her away and walked from them in long, angry strides.

_What just happened here?_

"What the _hell_ was that about?!"

Ginny didn't answer and walked away from them as well.

Ron turned to Hermione with an expression of angry confusion. "Do _you_ know what's wrong with her?"

"I don't think she wanted you to tell Malfoy about the dream, Ron."

"Why bloody not?! Not like he wasn't planning it all along . . ."

"Planning what?"

Hermione turned and saw a disheveled Harry behind them.

"Where are you coming from?" she asked.

Harry blushed a bit. "Just came back from seeing a friend . . ."

Ron's confusion left momentarily, and he grinned. "Trying to make it up to Cho, are we?"

A small smile formed on Harry's face even as he blushed. "Or rather, she to me . . ."

Hermione was confused. "Cho? I thought you didn't like Cho anymore! I thought you liked—"

Harry interrupted the question. "I'm a boy, Hermione. Any bloke in their right mind wouldn't turn down a kiss from Cho Chang."

"I would," Ron said seriously.

"You'd better," Hermione said as she poked him in his side. Ron grinned at her and brought her to him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I _meant_ single blokes . . ."

Ron's grin left his face, and he stared at Harry with a grim expression. "Harry . . . you're my best mate, right?"

The dark-haired boy became curious. "Right?"

"You spend a lot of time with Ginny . . . ."

"Yeah . . ."

"Is there anything you need or want to tell me?"

"Uh . . . what do you mean?"

"About Ginny and Malfoy?"

"I thought you said they were patrolling partners."

Ron sighed and looked to the sky. "_Aside_ from that. I know Malfoy is there for extra lessons with you two."

"Really."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I may be a daft bloke when it comes to some things," he began as he glanced at Hermione, "but give me some credit. Are they partners then, as well?"

"Sometimes . . . since we returned from holiday, Malfoy and I have been partners."

Ron grinned. "Got some good blows in, mate?"

Harry smirked. "I've made him bleed a few times."

"_Honestly!_" Hermione said, irritated by their glorification of violence.

Ron and Harry rolled their eyes at her exclamation. "Partner during extra lessons—fine—but are they partners _outside_ of that?"

Harry looked at the ground and shuffled his feet.

"_Dear Merlin, Harry!_"

He began to go for him, and Hermione held Ron's arm tightly. "Leave him alone, Ron; you know Ginny. Nothing we could've told her would've made her stop!"

Ron rounded on her. "_We?!_ You knew, too?"

Hermione became sheepish. "Well . . . yes, she told me on accident—"

"And _why_ did no one deem it necessary to _tell _me this!? It's bad enough the tosser is getting defense lessons, but he's _snogging_ my sister to boot! She's being turned into a slag, hanging around the likes of him!"

"Is she, Ron? Up until a moment ago, you didn't even _know_ she was with Malfoy. You didn't think her a slag then!" Hermione chastised.

"And do you think I'd be okay with her being with him if I thought he'd hurt her?" Harry defended.

"_Are_ you okay with it?"

Harry sputtered. "Well—well, no, not really—"

"Then it's settled. I'm going to rearrange the wanker's face."

Hermione stopped his progress again. "You will leave him alone, Ron! Ginny will kill you!"

"She wouldn't dare!"

Harry looked skeptical. "Did you ever stop to think why Ginny and I have been strained lately? She was hacked off at me for getting in the way of her and Malfoy."

"Really? What did you do?"

Harry turned red again. "I—I—kissed her?"

Ron became confused. "Why would she be mad about that? She's been in smitten with you since she was eleven!"

Harry became annoyed. "Yeah, well, now she fancies the wanker! She's in love with him!"

A tense silence followed that declaration. Hermione shook her head, unable to believe it. "Harry, you must've heard wrong—"

"It's kind of hard to mishear an echo, Hermione. I had to hear it over and over again when she screamed it at me."

Ron's expression was blank. "Has she told him this?"

Harry nodded, and Hermione let out a long sigh.

Ron inhaled deeply. "This is not good. Ginny's in grave danger now."

Harry became alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Ron's eyes blazed with fury. "Don't you see, Harry? Malfoy's got her right where he wants her! Why _else_ hasn't You-Know-Who come after you all year? Why? Because he's found another target—Ginny! Ginny's being used to lure you to him—_again!_ But now she's lost more than her mind this time; she's lost her heart as well!"

Hermione could've kissed Ron for being so clever. "What he says makes sense, Harry. You-Know-Who could be looking for other targets now."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Ron cut him off. "And the dream, too! She dreamed about the git using her and you, too!"

"I _know_ this, but I don't—"

"Ron told Malfoy about the dream."

Harry's eyes widened. "You _what?!_"

Ron turned red, from anger or embarrassment Hermione did not know. "I bloody well had to, to make Ginny see reason!"

"Oh, _Ron!_ _Why_ did you do that?!"

"I already said!"

"Ginny will never forgive you for that. Now she could be in even more danger than before!"

"Which is why we need to get her _away_ from Malfoy!"

"Malfoy is the _least_ of her concerns right now!" Harry sighed and began walking to the castle. "I need to find her, talk to her . . ."

Ron looked aghast as the Gryffindor Seeker left. Hermione linked her fingers with his.

"Are you as confused as I am?" he asked her after a few moments.

She nodded. "There's more going on than meets the eyes. Harry would never defend Malfoy like that."

"He doesn't want her to be with the git anymore than we do, Hermione!"

She nodded hesitantly. "That may be true, but it's more personal than what you think it is, Ron. Harry liked Ginny."

"And she chose _Malfoy?_ I don't think she's my sister . . ."

"She is, Ron. She apparently sees something in Malfoy he doesn't show anyone else."

"What? His human side?"

She shrugged. "Possibly. Harry seemed less inclined to join in the usual ribbing than he normally does. You learn things about a person when you have to spend close time with him or her."

"An expert on human relationships now, hmm?"

She chuckled. "Not hardly, Ron."

He laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders again since she was so short. Hermione wrapped hers around his waist, and they began to walk to Hogwarts. "I can hardly believe you're not. You're an expert on everything else."

She squeezed him briefly. "I can barely understand ours, let alone any with Malfoy in it."

His pace slowed, for which she was grateful. She didn't have to make gaping strides to match his easy ones.

"What do you mean you don't understand ours?"

She carefully avoided his eyes. "I mean, I don't understand why . . . oh, it's silly."

She felt his gaze on her as they kept walking. When he didn't say anything, she looked at him.

He shrugged. "I reckon it is, 'Mione. It must be really silly for me to be with you."

Hermione couldn't control the sting of tears at his words. "Exactly! So why don't you go find yourself a pureblooded witch with pretty hair and a pretty smile and pretty big curves—like, like that veela!"

She tried to run off, but his grip was too tight. Hermione knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't help the feelings of insecurity she felt, especially listening to her housemates fawn over him. When they'd gone to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day last Friday, she heard girls gossiping about how good-looking Ron had become, and being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain . . . he was growing popular in his own right. She'd even heard girls from other Houses admiring Ron, and most, if not all, of these girls were the types Ron used to talk and fantasize about to Harry. But what really hurt her the most was speculation as to why he'd stick himself with a "walking encyclopedia," a bookworm who wouldn't know fun if it "danced naked in front of her with a tea cozy as a hat." Listening to the girls coo over Ron during the game was enough to make her insane; now it only made her sad.

"Let go of me, Ron!" she said, praying he didn't hear the catch in her voice.

"I told you before; I'm not letting you go. Why won't you believe me when I say that?"

His voice was so gentle and tender she nearly broke down then.

"I do, Ron."

"Then believe me when I say you're the only woman for me, Hermione. I haven't even so much as _looked_ at another woman since we've kissed! Truth be told, there wasn't another woman since I realized you were a _girl!_"

She heard the laughter in his voice, and she grinned in spite of herself. "You are silly, Ron."

"Not as silly as you are! I can't believe you'd even have the audacity to say something like that to me!"

Her grinned widened. "What's a synonym for 'audacity'?"

Ron trailed his tongue around the outside of her ear before placing a kiss on it and sighing. "Gall, nerve, bollocks . . ."

"Ron!"

"What? You asked!"

"But you didn't have to be so crude!"

"Crude, rude, and full of attitude is what I am, 'tis true; but fear not, m'lady, for I love me some you." He grinned before he kissed her lips. "I love you a lot, Hermione."

The tears she tried so earnestly to hold back came forth in torrents. Ron merely held her, whispering words of comfort in her hair.

"Don't cry, love. Good ole Ron will be here always."

She nodded as she burrowed closer to his warmth. "I don't deserve you."

He chuckled. "I believe you have that backwards, love. It's I who doesn't deserve _you!_"

She pulled back and looked at him skeptically. "What the devil are you on about, Ron? You say that as if I'm something special."

He shook his head with a wry smile. "You see? If I can't prove to you how special you are, then I have no right to call myself your boyfriend. One would think after six years of practice a bloke would get it right . . ."

"Ron . . ." she sighed.

He shook his head and placed a quick kiss to her forehead. "No, Hermione. If I have to remain out here freezing my bollocks off to do it, then I will, but before we go inside that castle, Hermione Granger, you will know _exactly_ how special you are to me, and to the world, period."

He walked away from her, tapping his forefinger along his head as he muttered to himself. Hermione gazed at him, wondering how this boy had become such an important fixture in her life. It was only six years ago when she'd first seen him in that compartment with Harry, trying to turn Scabbers yellow. The look of concentration in his eyes as he tried to perform the spell endeared him to her immediately. When he didn't succeed, the look of disappointment was too much for her to bear, but _she_—a Muggle-born witch—wanted so desperately to prove she was worthy. At the time she didn't know why, but now she thought she knew. She wanted to impress the redhead, to make him see she would be worthy of _him._ She'd almost forgotten about Harry, even if he was the Boy Who Lived. All she cared about was boy who had dirt on his nose.

_What a difference six years make!_

Ron was still insecure, but not like he was when they first started. Without the pressures of his older brothers—real or imagined—Ron had blossomed into himself, much more confident than Hermione had ever seen him. Where he was once tall, lanky, and awkward, he was now tall, proportionally built, and poised. He was comfortable in his successes and, more importantly to her, confident in his mistakes. Sure, he was one of the rashest people she'd ever met, but without a doubt everything he focused on he met with success—classes notwithstanding.

To see the look of concentration focused on her was the most romantic thing he could've ever done.

_It's damn sexy, too!_

"I love you, Ron," she called to him.

He'd stopped his pacing and turned to her. Ron's gaze was intense as he watched her, and Hermione shifted under his stare.

"I know you do; I just don't understand why you can't accept my love for you in return," he said solemnly.

She looked down at her fingers. "I just want to prove to you I'm worthy of it, Ron. All my life, I've had to work hard to get what I want, and I feel I just don't have all that much to offer you in the way of a girlfriend . . ."

She heard his feet crunch in the snow, and she willed herself to remain where she was. "You know," he began, bringing his hand to cradle her chin. He lifted her head to make her eyes meet his. "For someone so brilliant and clever, you have an uncanny knack for being so daft at times."

Hermione pouted. "That's not nice, Ron."

"Neither is it for you to talk about yourself like that, Hermione. The way you speak, it seems I'm a complete idiot for wanting to be with you."

"I don't think you're an idiot, Ron . . . not _all_ the time . . ."

"Oh gee, what a way to make me feel better about myself!"

She grinned at him then moved her eyes to stare at the Gryffindor seal on his Quidditch robes.

"I'm afraid it's all too good to be true," she sighed. "I'm afraid someone better will come along and take you away from me. I know I wouldn't be able to bear it if—"

"You speak nonsense, Hermione. There's no one better because you're the best. If anyone should fear abandonment, it's me."

Her eyes snapped up to his. "_You?_ Heavens! _Now_ who speaks nonsense!?"

He blushed and looked down at his feet.

"I mean . . . you had Viktor Krum, of _all people,_ to ask you to the Yule Ball . . . _you_ were the person he'd miss the most . . . and I'm sure there are other blokes who'd feel the same way."

"Oh Ron—"

"A Seeker caught you if for a brief moment. You were the Golden Snitch—and I don't mean that in a dirty way, Hermione. You were indeed the most valuable and sought after person at the Ball that year, and ever since you've held many a bloke captive since. Why do you think I become so crazy when someone stares at you for longer than two seconds? I'm afraid I'll get in the same fix as Krum—only have you in my grasp for a brief moment until you find a quicker, better bloke."

"Ron?"

He raised his blue eyes to hers, and she fell in love with him all the more. "Krum's a Seeker."

He frowned at her. "Yeah, Hermione, I know."

"What are you, Ron?"

His frown deepened before his face muscles relaxed. Her heart squeezed at the grin forming on his face. "I'm the Keeper."

"Yes, Ron, you are," she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist. His arms settled around her, and he rested his forehead against her. "So while it took another bloke to find me, so to speak, you get to keep me. Is that to your liking, Mr. Weasley?"

"Very much so, Miss Granger."

"Good." She went on tiptoe and kissed his lips.

"And I won't throw you back in the game, love. Oh no, you're stuck with this Keeper."

"Good."

Another kiss.

"I mean it, Hermione. I don't know where this sudden doubt came from, but it needs to go back and stay there. There's no one out there for me but you. Some blokes search a lifetime and never find The One. I was lucky."

"Ron . . ." She hugged him tightly.

_He's right. I shouldn't let what those girls say get to me. They're just jealous because I have the best man in the world!_

She felt his stomach growl, and she giggled.

"C'mon, love, I'm sure it's dinner soon. We'll go upstairs to the Tower then go to dinner, okay?"

She nodded, and they walked inside arm in arm. She was glad for the warmth that greeted her body and had a hard time determining if it was from the heat in the building or Ron's love. "Thank you for making me feel special, Ron."

He laughed. "I had to, or else my bollocks would've fallen off!"

She turned red at the image. "Ron!"

"What? It's a very important feature of my anatomy!"

She removed her arm from him and began to walk faster. "I cannot _believe_ you'd say something like that after—wait, yes I can . . ."

"But don't you _want_ me to have my bollocks? I mean, you do want _children,_ don't you?"

She froze.

_Children?_

Hermione turned to face him. He was the color of his hair and looking everywhere but at her. "What does _your_ anatomy have to do with me having children, Ron?"

"Blimey, 'Mione! I sure am hungry! I'll meet you up in the Tower!" He rushed past her and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She grinned to herself as she followed him.

_Looks like I'm not the only one who's been thinking of the future . . . if there's a future to have . . ._

Hermione knew something was going on despite the extra lessons, and Ron's insistence of You-Know-Who finding a new target unsettled her to no end. She frowned as her mind went over possibility after possibility of the Dark side's next move—all of which featured Malfoy in the thick of it. But even then, Hermione felt no closer to resolution. If it were a simple case of Malfoy using Ginny as a means to an end, Hermione would readily agree with Ron's theory, but she couldn't do so—at least not yet.

Malfoy's eyes bothered her the most. The way he looked at Ginny went far beyond false affection.

He cared for Ginny and very much so from the look of it.

Hermione didn't know how to reconcile the horrible boy she'd known for the past six years with the same boy who made it painstakingly obvious to her he cared for Ginny. At the same time, she knew that affection to be dangerous for all parties involved—especially Ginny. Of course, there was still the matter of that dream, and Hermione remembered Malfoy's words:

_With you and Nia, it's never 'just a dream!' You know that as well as I!_

She wondered what he meant by that comment, but she feared her first thought might be the correct one.

The dream Ginny had was _indeed_ a Sight from the future.

A chill went up Hermione's spine, and she hugged herself. Tears stung her eyes at the thought of Ginny experiencing an ordeal like that. Then she remembered Malfoy's role in the dream, and her eyes narrowed. The tone in Malfoy's voice was one of desperation and . . . fear?

_Things are amiss here . . ._

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she reached the fourth landing of the stairs. Her eyes made an automatic glance to the library as she saw Malfoy and Nia enter, both deep in conversation.

_Wouldn't they have to climb these stairs to get there from the dungeons? Oh right; there are probably so many secret stairwells and corridors the dungeons have their own personal staircase!_

She sent a quick glance up the stairs before deciding to go into the library.

_A little 'research' never hurt anyone . . ._

She walked briskly to the library and gave Madame Pince a smile as she went inside. She browsed the bookcases, hoping to find the pair. She'd just reached the R section when she heard voices.

"Draco, what you're suggesting is dangerous . . . "

"Yeah, well, things are out of my hands now, aren't they? You heard what I told you!"

"Yes! But you don't _really_ think this is the best way to—"

"It's the only way. Better this way than any other way. What the Dark Lord wants, the Dark Lord gets . . ."

Hermione gasped. "This is not sounding good . . ."

The younger girl looked agitated. "But what about Ginny?"

"What about Ginny? She had a dream, Nia, and you know when you two have dreams, they usually are true."

Nia sighed. "But you don't really think whatever she dreamed will happen?!"

"Look at how things are playing out now. It's only a matter of time before it comes true . . . ."

"What did she dream?"

"I can't tell you that. You know too much as it is."

"Fine then. Does she know about you?"

"I said she dreamed it."

"But she could stop it, couldn't she? She could tell Harry—"

"Knowing Little Weasel she's already told him and the other two of the infernal Trio. Three more pests in the plans . . ."

"That's not good," Nia said dejectedly.

"No, it's not, Little One."

"But right now, it's only speculation, right? A dream doesn't equal tangible proof . . ."

"What's with you using big words?"

Nia huffed. "So what if I like to read."

"You're a regular bookworm . . . you sure you're not hanging around the Mudblood?"

"Watch it, Malfoy."

"Anyway . . . I'm really in a spot. I have a job to do with no one to help."

"You have Snape, maybe he could—"

"What can he do? He has his own directive. Besides, I can't very well go around announcing I work for Voldemort!"

There was a brief silence.

"I could help . . ."

Malfoy shook his head emphatically and said in a flat, yet firm tone, "No."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "It's just that—"

"It really doesn't matter now. If anyone else finds out about this, the edge we have will be lost for good!"

Nia sighed. "I know . . ."

"And you're to stay out of it."

She looked indignant. "Not likely! I have just as much at stake as you do."

"Yeah, well, I don't think Potty will be knocking on your door any time soon."

Nia rolled her eyes. "But you lo—"

"Whatever I feel for the Little Weasel doesn't matter anymore. I have to do this, or this could mean our heads."

"Yes, Draco. But is it worth your hearts?"

Hermione's heart beat quickly as she waited for his answer.

"If all goes well, it will be."

Hermione couldn't stand to listen anymore as she rushed out of the library.

_Everything Ron said was true! Draco's using Ginny to lure her to the Dark Lord! Well . . . he shall _not_ succeed! It'll be a cold day in hell before I let Draco get his hands on her! And Nia . . . boy did I have her pegged wrong! I guess Lee was right—every family _does_ have a rotten apple!_

She fumed all the way up to the Tower and barked a sharp password to the Fat Lady. She didn't care about the portrait's indignant mutterings as it opened for her. She barely registered the concerned looks sent her way.

"Hermione?"

She didn't stop walking. "Not now, Ron. Your sister and I need to have a little chat."

Hermione marched up to the fifth years' girls' dormitory and knocked soundly. She may have been upset, but she still had the decency to respect privacy. One of Ginny's roommates answered the door.

"Is Ginny in?"

The girl opened the door wider to see a very focused Ginny practicing fight moves.

"We'll just be going now . . . It must be dinnertime . . ." Ginny's roommates made a beeline out of the room, leaving the two very upset women to themselves. There was a tense silence as one tried to ignore the other. The younger girl stopped and looked at Hermione.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you've got to say, I don't want to hear it," Ginny said nonchalantly as she moved to another fight sequence.

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her, not amused. "Oh really? I'd rather think you'd like to know how your 'boyfriend' now works for Voldemort and wants to make your 'dream' a reality."


	19. Nineteen

_Nineteen_

Ron sat anxiously at the table, one eye on the Charms essay in front of him and the other on the door.  He needed to speak with Ginny and soon.  He was concerned for his baby sister, and the fact she wasn't speaking to him made him hurt and frustrated.  Ron couldn't believe she was still smarting over the confrontation after the Quidditch game three weeks ago.  Perhaps he _was_ wrong for blurting her dream in front of Malfoy, but that didn't mean she had to give him the silent treatment.  He was at least grateful she put aside their differences for a moment when he celebrated his birthday in the common room on Saturday.  When she gave him his present with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, he realized just how much he missed his sister's affections.

He wanted his Ginny back.

"She's not going to talk to you, Ron.  She's still angry with us, me in particular . . ."

Ron glanced at Hermione briefly.  If Ginny was angry with Ron, she was downright spitting nails at Hermione.  She'd told him about her confrontation with his sister after she overheard Malfoy and Roberts plotting against her.

The phrase "I told you so" was never more bittersweet than then.  For some reason, neither Ron nor Hermione wanted to discuss the revelation in front of Harry, mainly because of his role in Ginny's dream.  He was already annoyed Ron told Malfoy about the dream; hearing the ferret was a Death Eater would surely cause blood to spill.

It was only a matter of whose and who did it first.

"She doesn't have to talk.  All she needs to do is sit there and listen to me.  In fact, I think we should tell McGonagall right now and get him to switch partners.  That way you and Ginny could be patrolling partners, and the Death Eater and his little gal pal can go as well."

"And they would be able to create even more chaos together.  No, the pairing will have to work as it is."

His eyes widened.  "Even better.  Ginny can be paired with Ernie, and _I_ can be paired with Malfoy!  He wouldn't dare do anything with me breathing down his neck.  Matter of fact, I vote no Slytherins are allowed to be prefects.  We'll just give them some from the other houses . . ."

"That's a horrible idea, Ron."

He scowled but said nothing.  He knew it was a bad idea, but he didn't understand why Dumbledore would put Slytherins in positions of power, especially when they knew all the secrets going on within the school.  They'd be liable to tell their Death Eater parents and give You-Know-Who the edge—case in point, Draco Malfoy.

His lip curled in disgust.  He didn't understand what his sister saw in that ferret, _especially_ when his best mate wanted to be with her.  For Ron it was a no-brainer—sidekick's sister gets hero.  Why would Ginny want the son of the enemy?  More importantly, why would the hero _vouch_ for the pairing?  As the lines of his parchment swirled into a vortex before him, he remembered an episode during the summer when he confronted Harry about Ginny . . .

_"I thought we were best mates! You should tell me what kind of bloke dares to catch my sister's interest."_

_"No, thank you. No need to be the cause of you going to Azkaban for murder. Hermione would kill me!"_

_"Would I like this bloke?"_

_Harry was silent, as if judging his words. "He's not for you to like . . ."_

_"Wrong answer!" Ron growled, and he pinned Harry against the wall. "Who is he?"_

_"Ron! Get off of him now!"_

_"I knew you'd react this way! And I haven't even told you his name!" Harry gasped._

Now he realized Harry knew the entire time and didn't tell him.

Ron was going to kill him.

"Where's Harry, Hermione?"

"He had detention with Snape, remember?  He said he'd meet us at dinner."

He stood from the table quickly, his Charms essay forgotten.  His steps were purposeful as he went to the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?"

"To kill Harry Potter," he muttered as he stepped out the hole.  Ron heard the clicking of heels behind him, but he didn't stop his rapid pace.  A hand grabbed his arm, and he stopped.

"Yes?"

She looked at him with frustration.  "You can't go marching into a detention with _Snape!_  It'll get Harry in even more trouble!"

"And _why_ should I care?!  If he'd told me Ginny and Malfoy were seeing each other earlier, we wouldn't _be_ in the fix we're in right now!"

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms in front of her.  "And I say it wouldn't have made a bit of difference!  Even _after_ my warning, she's still seeing him."

"Speaking of which, did you warn her when she let it slip out?  Why didn't _you_ tell me?!"

Hermione had the decency to blush.  "It was just a crush!  I didn't know it had progressed into something more until earlier last term . . ."

"Even still, why didn't you tell me?"

She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head on his chest.  Ron instinctively welcomed the embrace and gripped her tight.  "Honestly, Ron, I don't remember seeing her so happy than she had been since she started seeing Malfoy.  It's obvious she really loves him, and up until that day in the library, I was entertaining thoughts he might have feelings for her as well—"

"Slytherins make excellent actors—I mean, look at Snape!  He has to act like a Death Eater when he's actually working for the Order!"

Hermione stiffened before she jerked back in with a gasp.  "Oh dear . . ."

Ron frowned and cradled her face with his hands.  "'Oh dear'?  'Oh dear,' what?"

"What if I jumped to conclusions?  What if Draco isn't really a Death Eater at all?!"

He narrowed his eyes, unwilling to accept that possibility.  "You heard him say he worked for Voldemort—"

"But so does Snape, in a way; I mean he _is_ still a Death Eater, after all . . ."

"Exactly!"

"But what if Malfoy is actually working for the Order, like Snape is?"

He scoffed and began walking again.  "No bloody way.  This is _Malfoy!_"

"Yes, Draco Malfoy who _I_ believe is in love with your sister!"

He stopped walking and spun to face her.  "Malfoys are incapable of loving anything but their own reflections and fat purses.  He no more loves Ginny than I love Snape!"

Hermione placed her hands on her hips.  "Then why are you with me then?  Don't you have a Potions Master to snog?"

Ron turned green and barely contained his urge to throw up.  "No more kisses for _you_ today . . ."

She smirked.  "You don't have the willpower."

_Damn sexy Know-It-All._

"I'll figure out something to get back at you . . . and it will be good."

"I'm sure it will, Ron," she said condescendingly.

He turned away from her and started towards the stairs.  He heard her footsteps but ignored them, his mind on Hermione's suggestion.

_Could_ Malfoy be doing a Snape and playing spy for the Order?  As much as he wanted to shoot the thought down, Ron couldn't help but see the plausibility of it.  Malfoy—the boy groomed to follow his father's footsteps—did, but not in the same pairs of shoes, so to speak.

_Malfoy use evil for good?  Not bloody likely . . ._

Yet he couldn't get Malfoy's words out of his head.

_"No?  Then what if I called her a goddess . . . my goddess . . ."_

He'd heard the tenderness in the other boy's tone, and it threw him for a loop.  Come to think of it, Malfoy had been pretty mild all school year, only confronting them when it was _they_ who started an argument.  Malfoy still gave as good as he got, to be sure, but he seemed more concerned with other things than taunting the trio as he used to do.

Ron couldn't believe he didn't notice before.  There _had_ to be a reason Professor Roberts would let Malfoy have extra lessons with Harry _Potter_ of all people . . . maybe Malfoy _had_ defected from the Dark Side . . .

Ron shook his head.  Until he saw the git fighting for the Order, he would not believe the possibility.  He couldn't, not when his sister's virtue was at stake.

_But then again, Ginny's in those extra practices as well . . . I even think she's more powerful than she lets on . . . I remember the scarlet light from her hands; surely that means _something!

"Hermione?"

She reached his side and grasped his hand.  "Yes, love?"

He grinned at the endearment and thought he'd never tire hearing her call him such.  "Did you ever do any research as to why Ginny was able to heal me the way she did?"

She shook her head.  "No, I haven't, but it's obvious she's a very powerful witch, Ron."

"Yes!  Perhaps they want Ginny for more reasons than to get Harry . . . with a Healer as powerful as Gin could be, why not?  They get hurt, she heals them; the cycle never ends . . ."

"Or worse reason, Ron.  They could want an heir!  Remember the dream?"

Ron didn't like thinking about it, but he did, and his anger increased.

"We need to get her away from Malfoy," he said with more force than his previous times.

"I agree, but I also think we can't force Ginny to do anything.  She's in this relationship with her eyes wide open—"

"_Open,_ Hermione?" he asked as they reached the final step.  There were kids already heading to dinner as they walked through the main corridor.  "Her eyes are as open as a bat's!  She's blinded by love of that arsehole!"

_Speak of the devil . . ._

Malfoy passed in front of them, in deep conversation with the Roberts girl and Goyle.  Crabbe was a few paces behind them, looking more menacing than ever.  Trepidation settled in Ron's stomach.

_No doubt thinking of ways to get Ginny to Voldemort . . . but why would Crabbe not be in the discussion?_

"What's with Crabbe?" he whispered to Hermione.

She shook her head.  "I don't know, but be glad Ginny's not in love with _him!_"

"I don't know which is worse, quite honestly!"

Hermione clucked her tongue as they reached the steps of the dungeons.  Neither said anything while they walked, both deep in thought.  They creaked the door open to see the room empty—save for a satchel.

It was Harry's.

"Where is he?" Hermione asked, her voice having a panicked edge to it.

Ron squeezed her hand in comfort, his ears perked up to catch any stray sounds.

"Oi!  Harry!  Are you here?"

There was a rustling from the case of potions beside the grandfather clock.  Hermione and Ron looked at each other curiously before they heard the case moving.

Ron's mouth dropped open, and Hermione shrieked.

"SNUFFLES!"

The black dog bounded to Ron and placed its front paws on his thighs.  Hermione backed up until she hit a desk.

Harry smirked.  "Might as well come back here; Snuffles here couldn't stay in the room like a _good dog . . ._"

Snuffles turned innocent eyes toward Harry before looking at Ron with mischief.

Ron snickered.  Hermione was still staring at Snuffles in disbelief.

"Told you so," Harry said smugly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and brushed past into the secret room.

"I think she's mad at you, mate," Ron snickered.  Harry rolled his eyes and followed Hermione.  Snuffles butted his head against Ron's leg as if directing him to the door.

"I'm going, Snuffles, really!" Ron laughed.  He went inside and heard the case slide closed with a hiss.  There was a bed, a fireplace and other necessary furniture for Snuffles to live in comfort.  The dog transformed and wrapped Ron in an enthusiastic hug.

"It's so good to see you again!" Sirius said happily.

Ron returned the hug with the same enthusiasm.  "You, too!  Though I'll admit I didn't expect to see you breathing when I did . . ."

Sirius laughed and went to hug Hermione.  Her embrace was stiff.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you _really_ Sirius?"

"I walked in on you and Ron last Christmas . . . remember?  You were straddling his lap, and—"

"Good to see you, too, Sirius!" she said quickly, her embrace firmer.

Ron felt Harry's eyes on him, and he blushed.

"Straddling your lap, eh?"

"Bugger off!" Ron replied as he punched Harry's shoulder.

"So how's the school year been, you two?  Haven't been leaving poor Harry alone now that you're an item, have you?"

Hermione blushed even more.

Ron grinned.  "Not as if Harry's made it difficult to do; he's rarely in the room now, always off with the extra lessons."

Sirius became serious and looked at Harry.  "Yeah, we were just talking about those.  I heard she's incorporated magic now."

Harry nodded.  "We're practicing conjuring the weapons with our wands.  She even hinted at the possibility of transfiguring our wands into our weapons, but with a special spell that allows the weapon to go back into the wand if it's broken."

Hermione frowned and sat on the sofa.  "That sounds difficult."

Harry snorted.  "Difficult is an understatement.  The only who can do it right is Ginny.  Nia's having a real time of it, though, considering she's the baby after all."

"The baby?" Hermione asked.

"I'll say!  That girl's hardly a baby . . ." Sirius said with a raised eyebrow.

"And apparently working with Malfoy to bring Ginny to You-Know-Who!"

Sirius's face darkened, and Ron shrank back from him.

"There's no possible way Nia would _ever_ do something for Voldemort."

"But she's in Slytherin!"

"And her mother was a Gryffindor, and her _father_ was a Ravenclaw _and_ is a current Auror.  Nia Roberts will _not_ be an accomplice for the Dark Lord . . . not like Pettigrew was . . ."  Sirius's voice left no room for argument, and it left Ron confused.

"But she's friends with Malfoy—"

"He's my cousin."

"Not by choice!"

"And not by Narcissa's either."

The three teenagers frowned.  "What?"

"Never thought you'd hear me say that, did you?  To be honest, I didn't either.  Narcissa and I weren't particularly close, _especially_ after Andy went off with Tonks.  By then I thought Narcissa was a Bellatrix-in-training, and if my aunt and uncle had her way, she would've been."

"And why do you think Malfoy's different?  Like father, like son!" Ron exclaimed.

"Malfoy and I had a little chat—"

"He _knows_ you're here and hasn't _said_ anything!?  That's not Malfoy then . . ."

"Or it's a Malfoy who's determined not to follow the same path as his father."

"He's still horrible to us, _especially_ Hermione!"

"He doesn't like you."

"Exactly!"

Sirius grinned.  "Just because he doesn't like you doesn't mean he hasn't changed, or, more to the point, finally become himself."

Ron narrowed his eyes at the older man.  "Are you saying Malfoy doesn't _want_ to be a Death Eater?"

Sirius sighed.  "I'm not saying he's not a prejudiced brat, because he is.  What I am saying is he's too proud to _ever_ take orders from a half-blood, half-human."

"But he'll take them from Dumbledore instead?  I thought he didn't like Dumbledore!" Hermione said.

"Appearances may deceive."

"I cannot believe you're defending the ferret," Ron moaned.

Sirius chuckled.  "Want to know something?  I can't either.  But dying does things to a person—most of which reassess relationships."

"Clearly, if you're staying in the dungeons with Snape!"

Sirius scowled.  "No.  He's still a greasy git."

They all laughed.

"But we work for the same side, and we try to keep personal business outside of Order business."

"Easier said than done, I'll bet," Ron said sympathetically.

"I'd have an easier time trying to fit Hagrid in a teacup without magic."

Ron snickered and looked at Harry.  He'd been oddly silent throughout the entire exchange, and it worried him.

"All right there, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at Ron and gave a half-smile.  "Good as I'll get, I think."

Sirius glanced at Harry.  "He's having girl problems."

Ron sighed.  "I know Ginny's still mad, but she'll get over it!  She'll see you two are perfect for each other!  Malfoy won't—"

"Break her heart, Ron.  He won't."

Ron's jaw dropped at Harry's declaration.  Hermione seemed just as surprised, but Sirius seemed resigned.

"Did you just _hear_ yourself?" Ron whispered.

Harry let out a humorless chuckle.  "Believe me, mate, I can't believe I said it either . . ."

Ron sputtered, unable to articulate his thoughts properly.  Luckily Hermione saved him the trouble.

"But this is _Malfoy_ we're talking about!  I _heard_ him say he worked for You-Know-Who!  He said if everything went well, it was worth their hearts!"

Harry gave a wry smile.  "Did you 'hear' all of it, Hermione?"

Hermione blushed.  "Well . . . no, not all—but I heard enough to—"

Harry continued to smile, but it was sadder as he glanced briefly at Sirius.  "How many times has the misinformation we receive got us into more trouble than solutions?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at Sirius as well, and they dropped their heads.  A silence draped the room as they remained in thought.

"Sacrifices are necessary in a war, Hermione," Sirius said quietly.  Something told Ron he referred to more than this conversation.  He looked quickly at Harry and noted his somber expression.

"We know that, Sirius," Hermione said as she locked eyes with Ron briefly.  "What Harry's parents did was—"

"Harry's parents weren't the only ones who had to sacrifice . . . Neville's parents, Angelina and Nia's parents, Snape—they all had to sacrifice."

Ron snorted.  "What did Snape have to do?  Be nice for a change?  I'll bet that was a _huge_ sacrifice!"

Sirius shook his head.  "I don't like the git anymore than you do, but I will _not_ take his sacrifice lightly.  I don't think I would've had the strength to do what he did . . . it takes a great deal of faith to be able to do it."

Ron's mind immediately drifted back to the dream, and he gasped.  "You think it takes _faith_ to rape a woman!"

Sirius's eyes flashed in anger.  "Don't you _dare_ belittle that!  You didn't have to read the letters Malika sent to me!  She could've died—_died—_if the plan didn't work the way it was supposed to work!  If anyone figured out Snape switched the vials, all of them would've been dead and, with it, the opportunity to win this war.  It had to be done that way . . . it took a great deal of sacrifice to betray her trust like that."

A tense silence overcame the room as the full force of Sirius's words hit them.

Hermione moved her mouth a few times before sound happened.  "I don't understand . . ."

Sirius sighed and rubbed his hand along his face.  "There are a lot of things you don't understand—and the most important of all is forgiveness—or at the very least respect.  It took me upwards of fifteen _years_ to forgive Snape what he did to Malika—fifteen years.  Fifteen years of wasted anger, hatred, and all other negative feelings which ate away at me.  Do I like Snape?  Hell no, but I do respect him.  Though, I should be grateful, for in a way he allowed me to leave Azkaban with my soul.  Not a happy day went by in my time there, so there was no soul to lose.  But at the end of the day, it's all Pettigrew's fault.  He's fucked up Harry's life, and he's fucked up Nia's—both robbed of the parents they should've had."

Ron never felt such shame, especially in terms of Nia.  He didn't know the girl, but he was doing exactly what he blasted the Slytherins for—stereotyping people.  He glanced at Harry again to see him staring at the wall with blank eyes.

"You knew all about this—Draco and Ginny—didn't you?" Ron asked quietly.  "From this summer?"

Harry nodded.  "I'll tell you, mate, it knocked the wind out of me when I first found out, but it wasn't until I _saw_ them together that I had to face facts.  Regardless of how _we_ feel about each other, Malfoy really does love your sister.  The way they train, the way they talk to each other, the little looks they give—it's all there.  And while Ginny, to my knowledge, is the only one who's said anything, I know Malfoy feels the same way.  But it didn't clinch for me until I kissed her.  Dear Merlin, that was one of the most horrible things I've ever experienced.  She was so angry with me, and the look of hurt on Nia's face . . ."

Harry stopped talking and looked at his hands.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other with confusion at the mention of Nia.

Sirius clapped Harry's shoulder.  "Yeah, Harry, I know.  At least you learned quickly.  I spent two and a half years trying to change Malika's mind . . . look what happened with that . . ."

Ron didn't know what to think of this—Sirius and Harry defending Malfoy and Snape were two things he'd _never_ thought he'd see.  But then again, he and Hermione had been out of the loop for most of the year, leaving these two with insight on the arrogant ferret.

He still wasn't prepared to give Ginny away on a platter.

"While your concern for my sister and your 'faith' in Malfoy are really touching, I am _not_ prepared to hand her over to Malfoy.  To me, that's a one-way ticket to You-Know-Who, and I'll be damned if they have her!  She's just a kid!  Whatever she learns in those extra lessons of yours can't _possibly_ be enough to defeat the Death Eaters!"

Hermione nodded.  "I have to agree with Ron.  Malfoy doesn't sound like the same person who's been tormenting me for years.  I have a hard time believing he's changed, especially when he insulted me only days ago!"

"But this Nia girl . . . if you and Ginny say she's okay, then I guess I'll take your word for it.  Fred seems to like her well enough, and she _is_ Angelina's sister . . . though Angelina can be quite scary at times . . . scary and Slytherin is usually not a good combination."  Ron shuddered at the thought.

Harry grinned.  "Believe me, I know, mate.  I know all too well . . ."

"Then why do you defend her?  And _Malfoy_ for that matter!" Hermione asked.

Harry looked at them unflinchingly.  "Nia told me once—'if you don't understand by now this thing is bigger than you and Draco and some silly little House rivalry, then _maybe_ we need to find a new Apedemak.'  That helped me put things in perspective."

Ron hesitated before answering, his mind still wrapped around Harry's comment.  Hermione didn't take as long.  "But this _isn't_ just a House rivalry!  It's about people being able to come here and live in the wizarding world _regardless_ of how much magic runs down the family line!"

Ron nodded emphatically.  "Yes, Malfoy is all for the purification of the wizarding world—just like his father and the other Death Eaters!"

"And yet they follow a half-blood.  Kind of defeats the purpose, now doesn't it?"

Three heads whipped around to see Malfoy, Nia, and Ginny watching them.  Malfoy was even so bold as to slip his hand in Ginny's.  She squeezed it, looking directly into Ron's eyes.

It was a challenge if he ever saw one.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Malfoy beat him to it.  "You can't very well kick me out of the dungeons, mind you—this is _my_ turf."

"But that is _my_ sister!  Kindly take your cruddy hands off her."

"I like his 'cruddy' hands just where they are, thank you," Ginny said lowly.

Ron felt his ears turn red in anger.  "Didn't you _hear_ Hermione when she talked to you?  He's a bloody Death Eater!"

"So is Snape, and he works for the Order!"

"But Snape is _not_ a Malfoy!  The Malfoys are the evil among evil!"

"No, that would be the Lestranges.  They make Malfoys seem like puppies.  Is your father still messing around with Bella?" Sirius asked.

Malfoy snorted.  "And rubbing it in my mother's face, of course."

The older man shook his head.  "'Cissa was all right until Andy left; then they married her off to Malfoy.  Poor Remus . . ."

Five mouths dropped open.  "_Remus?"_

Sirius laughed.  "Oh yeah, Malfoy, you could've been a Lupin if your mother and he had their way.  But alas, Narcissa didn't have the spine—"

"Kindly refrain from speaking of my mother like that."

Sirius shrugged.  "She didn't.  Never had I seen Remus so depressed . . . the death of Lily and James surely didn't help matters, either."

"Sacrifices," Harry muttered.

Sirius gave him a wan smile.  "Indeed."

Nia snorted.  "I feel so out of the loop; I have no idea who you're talking about . . ."

Sirius grinned at her.  "Your mother was a good friend of Remus.  Had to be because she helped brew the Wolfsbane Potion with Snape."

Ron frowned.  "You were friends with Slytherins?"

Sirius chuckled.  "The only Gryffindors who were 'friends' with Slytherins were Nia's mother and Lily.  The rest of us were too busy pulling pranks on them."

Nia arched an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms in front of her.  "One of them almost got my father killed."

Sirius looked away from her penetrating gaze.  "That wasn't the intent.  Just wanted to scare some color into him.  He's awfully pale, don't you think?"

Nia rolled her eyes but couldn't refrain a chuckle.

"And just so you know—you three missed dinner," Ginny said.

Ron looked at his watch and groaned.  "To the kitchens it is, then.  Harry, are you coming?"

He shook his head.  "I ate with Sirius, and besides, we need to meet with Snape before we go to extra lessons."

"The kitchens . . . Weasels make themselves right at home there, don't they?"

"Better than an arsecrack, huh, Ferret?"

Ginny groaned.  "Enough, you two.  Ron—go eat.  Draco—be quiet."

"Yes, Mum!" they both said at the same time.

Ron's ears reddened again as he heard snickers.  He turned to see Nia and Harry smothering their laughter behind their hands.  The girl whispered something into Harry's ear, and he laughed harder.

_What is up with _that?

A hand grabbed his, and he was dragged from the room.

"What's the meaning of this?!" he demanded of Hermione.

"Did you hear what he said?"

"He who?"

Hermione's eyes went wide as they went to the kitchens.  "Harry!  Did you hear?"

"I couldn't hear much of anything, but that Nia girl sure had him laughing a fit—"

She looked curious.  "I noticed that, too, actually.  Interesting, huh?"

"Very."

"But _not_ as interesting as this Apedemak fellow!"

He stopped as they reached the painting that led to the kitchens.  Confusion reigned on his face.  "Who is he?"

Hermione raised a perfect eyebrow.  "Exactly."


	20. Twenty

_Twenty_

The month passed by uneventfully, a feat that worried Snape.  He hadn't been called to the Dark Lord since the New Year, yet he couldn't shake the feeling something was going to happen soon.  Draco had been keeping him abreast of his correspondences with his father, yet those owls held nothing more than orders to "best that Mudblood" or to "beat Potter smart."  Snape rolled his eyes.  Lucius Malfoy had always been a pain in the arse, but to see him treat his own child as nothing more than a house-elf was beyond callous—even for him.

He sighed as he stared into the fire.  He was grateful it was the Easter holiday; he didn't need to hear explosions and the idiotic mutterings of his students at the moment.  He was well aware of his reputation—Potter, Weasley, and Granger informed him of it every time they met—and he never bothered to discount it, either.  Children got on his nerves, and very much so, but it was more from the lack of ambition and strive than from the fact they were there.  Even most of his Slytherins lacked that ambition when it came to school, but with the rest of the Hogwarts staff giving them a hard time, it was left up to him to provide them with a modicum of confidence—confidence that if given by the wrong person would lead to destruction.

His hand went to his Mark, and he sighed again.  The Mark brought him nothing but pain from the moment he got it, but at least now his pain was not in vain.  Severus quickly grew bored listening to the Dark Lord spout his rhetoric of purity, power, and persecution.  The initial allure of what the Dark Lord offered paled as soon as he was branded; it was as if the Mark opened his eyes to see what hell he'd secured for himself.

He had wanted out.

To think all of this was because of a girl—of Malika.  Black's taunts had reached disproportionate levels towards the end of his seventh year, and even though Snape knew in his heart Malika loved only him, his mind found new ways to plant seeds of doubt.

Severus had always been led by a practical mind.

He didn't think he could compete with Black for her affections, regardless that she was with him from the beginning of his sixth year.  Black was handsome, charismatic, a Gryffindor and clever, if lazy.  Snape was barely cordial, pale, hooked-nosed, Slytherin and insecure, yet brilliant.  Malika often told him it was attitude that first drew her to him.  He'd often laughed at her when she said that.  He knew he was a surly wanker, but it was that surly wanker who rescued her from Nott during her first year.

He felt his lips form a smile.  There was rarely a time he thought of Malika and didn't smile.  She had a laugh that made all of his worries disappear and his guard go down.  The very fact he could be himself around her liberated him and scared him at the same time.  He'd been afraid she wouldn't love him if he weren't sure of himself all the time.  He didn't realize she would be there for him through any of his issues and his happy times.  More importantly, he didn't recognize he should've been there for hers.

His ignorance cost him his life, his love, and his soul.

She went to Black and, in doing so, all but sealed his fate.  What was the point in returning if she'd moved on to the very person he was trying to be?

_Why take an imitator when you could have the real thing_ was what he thought of her move.

He didn't think at the time that maybe the 'imitator' was Black and not himself.

He'd known from the beginning Malika wouldn't be like the other girls—girls who measured the worth of a bloke by his looks or how large his father's purse was.  Sirius Black matched on both accounts, but he was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, and it was his arrogance that initially turned Malika away from him.  Also, true to a Gryffindor, she saw Severus as someone who could be saved, and he knew Gryffindors never turned down an opportunity to play hero.

Or heroine, in her case.

Why else would Lily continue to defend him, despite his calling her a Mudblood?  Even Potter would risk his life to save Snape's if the opportunity presented itself; heroism was part of the job description.

Severus sneered.  He was never one for flashing heroics; in fact, the turn to the Order wasn't entirely out of benevolence.  He overheard Pettigrew talking to the Dark Lord about plans to raid the Potters then capture Malika afterwards.  There was no way in the world he would let them take her.  Malika was good, these Death Eaters were not, and he did not want them putting their dirty hands on her.  He went to Dumbledore a few days afterwards and told him of their plans.  Dumbledore put a Fidelius Charm on the Potters as well as Malika—Sirius the original Secret-Keeper and Snape as Malika's.

Two very bad decisions were made after that.

The first was Black's asinine decision to make Pettigrew the Secret-Keeper instead; they thought he'd be a less likely target than the known best friend of James Potter.  Had Severus known about the switch, he would've have warned the family.  He doubted if they would have listened to them anyway for, Death Eater in the Order or no, he was still a Death Eater, and Potter was too sainted to sully his family with the likes of _him._

_Like father, like son, apparently._

The second was to listen to Dumbledore in the first place as he claimed betraying Malika would be for the overall good.  _"Sacrifices must be made in a war, Severus."_

He snorted.  Dumbledore wasn't the one making the sacrifice.

It damn near killed him to suggest the Dark Revel to the rest of the free Death Eaters.  His position in the group was precarious at best, and Dumbledore insisted it was imperative he made a move to reclaim their trust.

But now he wondered why that mattered in the first place.

_Oh yes . . . living had a certain appeal to it I couldn't pass up . . ._

And now, here he was, trying to convince Draco of _possibly_ doing the same thing to the Weasley girl.  It was surreal and strangely tragic.  If for no other reason, he was still at Hogwarts and Head of his House to sway these kids _away_ from the Dark Side.  No doubt they'd been force-fed the same crap since birth, and many of the older students were choking on it now.  However, he paid particularly close watch on Mr. Malfoy.  If he could entice Draco to the side of good, many other students would follow or, at the very least, not join Voldemort.  Malfoy was a bright student, if spoiled and bratty, but his mother's influence prevented him from turning into the sadistic monster of his father.

Severus scowled.  Lucius Malfoy was a waste of human space, but not so much as Peter Pettigrew.

He sighed—_Set._  Severus wondered what would make the evil god choose Pettigrew as a host body.  Voldemort made sense, but Pettigrew was a bumbling idiot if he ever saw one.  Pettigrew almost rivaled Longbottom—almost.  Longbottom had surprisingly grown a backbone over the summer, a feat that secretly pleased him.  Longbottom wasn't nearly as jumpy around him and managed to melt far fewer cauldrons this year than in years past.  That was a good thing, considering it was N.E.W.T. Potions—Level One.

Severus nodded.  Likening Longbottom to that rat was an insult of the worst kind.

Even still, Pettigrew was anything but bumbling now.  Set created a monster in the balding stout man, and he now realized the genius of choosing him.  Like Sirius anticipated seventeen years ago—who would suspect Pettigrew of anything?  People thought he was dead, a coward (which he was) and a pushover.  No one would take him seriously, and that would be a person's downfall.

Three people knew better than anyone else, and those were just the people who physically died.

That was the saddest part of all—nothing that had happened was an isolated event.  Everyone was connected in some way or another, and in ways they didn't want or could even conceive.  Who knew Caleb Johnson would gain a child, merely because Pettigrew used his Polyjuice form?  Who knew four people from different walks of life would be brought together because gods of old decided to use them as vessels?

Who knew the love of his life would be an American Mudblood Gryffindor?

"Things would've been easier if she was from an old pureblood family of the right social and racial class . . . but then she wouldn't be my Malika . . . my Queen . . "

Damn his father!  Damn his yearn to please him!  He didn't blame Malika for leaving him when she had the chance.  If _he'd_ been met with such hostility and hatred, he would've left as well.  He remembered all the stories of sit-ins and marches and hoses from where she came from.  She often talked of a Muggle named Martin Luther King, Jr., and how sad she was when he was killed when she was six.  Malika said with his death died the hopes of a better nation, or so it seemed.  The entire allure of moving to Britain was because things were different here; there was no racism and bigotry, according to her cousin.

Severus remembered her sardonic laugh when Malika found out that was not the case.

_He tried to keep his eyes trained on the scarlet robes before him, but they kept jumping in and out of his line of vision.  He shoved people out of his way, ignorant of their cries of indignation.  He looked past her to see where she was headed._

_The Shrieking Shack._

_He shuddered.  The girl knew him too well, had it in her mind he wouldn't dare follow her inside that god-forsaken place._

_He chanced a glance at the sky, just to be on the safe side.  Though it was day, the moon still appeared in the sky—it was not full._

Thank the gods.

_It didn't occur to him Lupin no longer attended Hogwarts nor that it was the middle of the day.  The thoughts of going into the Shrieking Shack always went to that night Black almost got him killed._

_His lip curled.  Sirius Black could go to hell for all he cared.  Good riddance to him and Potter.  He only wished Lily had a modicum of sense and married someone better . . . like Filch . . ._

_He snorted.  He might have disliked Potter, but even he knew that match wouldn't work.  Lily would drive Filch nutters._

_Just the way the girl before him was doing.  They'd just reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and he propelled his long legs to her.  She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes widened as she saw how close he was to her._

_Those eyes which now looked at him in fear, disappointment, and hurt._

_He had to fix things and quickly, before they became empty._

_"Leka—"_

_"Go away, _Snape!_  Go back to your bigot father and your bigot friends!"_

_His steps faltered only slightly, but he would not turn away . . . not like he did minutes before._

_"But I need to explain—"_

_"Explain what?" she demanded as she whirled to face him.  Her cheeks glistened from her tears, and his throat tightened.  He'd promised her the only tears he'd make her cry were happy ones.  Another broken Slytherin promise._

_"I didn't mean—"_

_"You never meant to take me—to take _us_ seriously, did you, Snape?  I was just some exotic thing with a weird accent and dark skin.  I was just here to tickle your fancy, wasn't I?"_

_"It's not like that—"_

_"No?" she asked, her tone condescending.  "What's it like, Snape?  Let me know 'cause you know how all us 'darkies' are as dumb as doornails!"_

_He winced at her language.  It was so caustic to his ears, so negative.  That was her entire point._

_"I love you, Malika; you must believe that."_

_She crossed her arms before her and let out a mirthless chuckle.  "You know, I did up until fifteen minutes ago, when I walked over to you and you said _nothing_ as your father and friends called me out by name and _insulted _me and my people.  If I _meant_ something to you, if you _loved_ me as you say you do, you would've never let that happen."_

_"I was afraid!  I couldn't very well go against my father in public like that!  What would his friends think—_my_ friends—?"_

_"How very Slytherin of you.  So concerned with what ignorant _jackasses_ have to think about you.  Who gives a crap about them?  If you were so scared with what they thought of me, _why_ enter in a relationship with me in the first damn place?"_

_Malika rarely cursed, and only did so when she was upset._

_She was beyond upset at the moment—she was hurt._

_"I love you," he repeated lamely._

_"But not enough.  My mama warned me about this, but I didn't listen to her.  She warned me not to listen to Elle's words of equality and no racism.  But you know what, the same bullshit that's going on in the States is happening _right here in Britain!  _But silly me, I thought it would be different in the wizarding world—but it's worse!  People hate me because I'm a Mudblood, _and_ I'm black.  Gives the term added meaning, don't you think?"_

_"I've _never—"

_"That's not what that guy Malfoy said."_

_Lucius Malfoy—an 'older brother' he never wanted.  Their fathers were old classmates and forced their sons to be friends._

_Snape hated the bastard with a passion, especially calling her a poor man's Venus—sprung from mud to go with her mudblood—instead of the ocean as the Roman goddess did._

_Malfoy dubbed her as the goddess of a good fuck instead of love._

_She'd looked to him then, to defend her honor, and all he did was lower his eyes to the table._

I'm such an arsehole.

_So now here he was, trying to make it better . . but he couldn't._

_He'd royally fucked things up._

_"I'm sorry . . ."_

_She looked at him for a long moment.  "I'm sorry, too.  I'm sorry I ever met you.  I'm sorry I opened my heart to you.  I'm sorry I didn't listen to people who _warned_ me about you."_

_"That's not fair."_

_"Life's not fair, hon.  If you lived the life I lived for the first eleven years of my life, you'd especially learn that.  You weren't rejected from a school merely based on the color of your skin.  You weren't taunted and spat upon as you walked down the street.  You've never had to give up your seat for someone because they were born with the 'right' skin tone and you weren't.  So don't you _dare_ talk to me about 'fair.'"_

_He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and whisper assurances he could never grant._

_But he had to know . . ._

_"Are you sorry for loving me?"_

_The question clearly caught her off guard for she jerked a little._

_It was a while before she answered.  "No, but I'm sorry you can't love me in return."_

_The words stung more than a slap.  "I _do_ love you!"_

_"So why are you pulling away from me?"_

_"I am not!"_

_"Hello!  Were you _there_ when your friends and family treated me like shit?  This is the real world, baby!  You're not in Hogwarts anymore, where everything magical is contained and protected.  You turned _away_ from me!  You treated me as if I didn't exist!  How in God's name can you say you _love me_ when you treated me like that!?"_

_He felt his shame even as he said the words. "It's not proper in my social circle to love someone like you."_

_The silence stretched indefinitely and tensely._

_"Well _maybe_ it is time to get out of that social circle."_

_"But that is my family . . . my friends . . "_

_"Family is more than bloodlines, Severus.  And your friends are shit."_

_He shook his head in sorrow, unable to look at her.  "I—I can't . . . I'm sorry . ."_

_She laughed sardonically.  "That's the one mutual feeling we have at the moment, Severus—sorry.  There's nothing more I can do for you now.  It's all in your hands . . . just don't expect me to wait for you to make your decision."_

He rarely saw her the four years afterward.

He couldn't.  When she left, he became a shell of himself, finding false solace in the Death Eaters' circle.  He learned quickly Voldemort was a raving lunatic who cared for naught but power.  Bugger purity of blood and all that codswallop.  He was gaining power through those weak enough to believe his crock.

He had been a weakling.

Snape wondered if that statement was applicable now, but he knew it was unfair to claim so.

After all he'd done, all he'd been through against the Order, for the Order, with the Order, he knew he was stronger than he credited to himself.

Dumbledore had told him constantly, but he waved the older man's words away.  Dumbledore wasn't the person from whom he needed to hear approval or, more importantly, forgiveness.

He needed to hear it from her.

_"She doesn't want to see you."_

_He shrank from the poison in the voice.  She looked like an older version of Malika—stunningly beautiful and a force to reckon with._

_Severus tread lightly._

_"Did she tell you that, or did you make the decision for her?"_

_He knew he didn't tread lightly enough when the door slammed in his face._

_"Blasted women!  Why must they frustrate me so?"_

_He knew he had some bollocks to appear on her front steps after The Incident.  He wouldn't blame her if the woman's decision echoed Malika's; it was nothing less than he deserved._

_However, his superior had a different opinion._

_Severus should've never allowed Dumbledore to convince him to come here.  He'd never fit well in the Muggle world; as it was, he felt decidedly out of place wearing the khaki slacks and jumper.  He missed the comfort of his robes—even if it was rather warm in the Southern heat._

_He groaned and turned away from the door.  He wouldn't leave, not until he saw her . . . explained to her . . . what?  How he betrayed her?  How he left her there _again_ to the mercy of folks of his "circle," regardless that he'd defected from them two years before?_

_He sat on the porch steps and sighed.  Severus was thankful the house was a good ways away from the road.  Truth be told, the metal boxes with wheels scared, if not baffled, him.  He was immensely grateful he was a wizard._

_His hand went to his left forearm almost habitually.  It no longer burned physically, but mentally it seared him.  This Mark was a representation of all the pain he'd ever felt in his life—his father, his social circle, the lack of Malika in his life—it really wasn't worth it._

_Especially Malika's heart._

_It had been easy to hate her when she walked away from him that day in Hogsmeade.  It made him a powerful Death Eater, numb to the screams of innocent Muggles.  He felt pain, and he wanted others to feel it as well.  He loved the feeling of power, of the knowledge he held someone's life in his hands, to do whatever he pleased with it.  He'd killed people because he could, tortured them because it let out his personal anguish._

_But one thing he could not do was rape._

_Rape was too intimate an act; something he knew would break him as well as his victim._

_The entire point of joining the Death Eaters was to detach himself from anything reminding him of her.  Killing was not Malika; torture was not Malika.  Both acts allowed the victim to be faceless entities, like a glass or a wall._

_A rape would bring her to the fore, for whoever his victim was Malika's face would be all he saw._

_And he couldn't bear it._

So much for _that_ plan, huh?

_But it had to be done.  Dumbledore revealed the prophecies of his late wife to him, knowing he would have a key role in bringing it to fruition._

_It was possibly the one moment he regretted loving Malika._

_He'd known all along a great part of the reason for joining the Death Eaters was to keep them _away_ from her; suggesting families and people who would keep the Dark Lord's interest from her while getting what he wanted._

_Too bad the bastard wanted an heir._

_When Pettigrew suggested Malika, he never felt anger so powerful.  His fingers itched to grab his wand and kill the sneaky rat.  But that was before he knew Pettigrew was already possessed, already knowledgeable of whom Malika was._

_His immediate thought was why not Lily, though he'd rather not her either.  But the Potters had been on the Death Eaters' hit list for months, Malika not ever until then._

_It was then he went to Dumbledore with the news and, in turn, received some of his own._

_His love was a goddess._

_Snape snorted in disbelief when the older man told him.  But when Dumbledore _showed_ him through the Pensieve, it ceased to be funny.  It was a dangerous plan to all involved, but he tried to prolong the actual deed._

_Secret-Keepers turned Secret Betrayers._

_It put a kink in the Death Eaters' plans certainly, but not the ones Dumbledore was secretly forming._

_The New Year's Eve of 1981, Dumbledore put the scheme in action._

_From January to October, they worked meticulously and carefully, making sure no stone was left unturned or leak seeped out._

_October 31—the Dark Revel—the conception._

_July 31—the Divine Birth—the heir._

_Severus only hoped it worked._

_Suddenly, something soft draped around his shoulders, and he started.  He leaned forward and stood on step before turning around._

_How he missed those amber eyes._

_"Malika."_

_She said nothing, only stared at him.  He took the opportunity to do the same as well.  She was shorter than he remembered her and looked at her feet._

_She was barefoot._

_Severus grinned as his eyes went to Malika's face again.  It was calm, almost content, even in its unsmiling state.  Her hair was cornrowed in medium-sized plaits, with multi-colored barrettes at different places.  A crocheted shawl was around her own shoulders, hiding the pink nightdress she wore._

_But it did not hide the bulge of her belly._

_All the emotions he felt at that moment came out in a rush, and he collapsed to his knees before her._

_"Malika . . ." he wept, his body wracked with sobs._

_The scheme was working, and it was a surreal discovery.  The knowledge that the sacrifice might not be in vain overwhelmed and humbled him at the same time._

_Severus felt a light pressure in his hair,and it served to calm him.  Hands traveled down his face to cup his cheeks, and his face was lifted._

_"I forgive you."_

_Severus shook his head, denying the words she spoke.  Malika continued to nod hers._

_"I forgive you, Severus."_

_He cried harder and shook his head vigorously as his hand rested on her rounded belly._

_"She's yours, Severus.  She's your child."_

_"No . . ." he croaked._

_Tears began to stream down her face as well, but she still had an aura of contentment surrounding her.  "She is.  I want her to have you as a father."_

_He laughed hollowly.  "I'm not fit to be anyone's father."_

_"Yes, you are.  You have so much love to give, Severus.  You've shown me you do."_

_"By raping you?!" he whispered bitterly, even as his hands ran reverently across her abdomen._

_Malika tensed at his question but continued to stroke his cheeks.  "Grandpa Albus told me what you did.  He explained everything.  I understand now.  I understand why you did what you did."_

_"He blackmailed me."_

_"He appealed to your darker sensibilities."_

_"And you say I'm fit to be a father?"_

_"Yes.  The Ritual would not have worked if you didn't love me enough."_

_He frowned at the seemingly conflicting stipulations._

_She grinned.  "Why else would he threaten to send you to Azkaban?  He knew if he said it was for love you'd shy away."_

_He was torn between feeling indignant and feeling shame._

_"Besides, I think you knew deep down he'd never send you to Azkaban even if you'd said no and that you loved me enough to do this for me."_

_He frowned.  "I suggested the Dark Revel."_

_"Because that was the only way it would work, right?"_

_He nodded._

_"I fear Grandpa hasn't told you the most important condition of the Ritual."_

_He rolled his eyes and rested his cheek against her stomach.  "He hasn't told me a lot of things, apparently."_

_She giggled and began to run her fingers through his hair.  It was still a bit greasy, but he knew she didn't care._

_"We've gotta wash this hair during your stay, honey."_

Apparently she did!

_"Sorry."_

_She laughed again.  "I'm teasing."_

_He rolled his eyes and pulled away from her.  "Would you like to sit down?  I think you should."_

_She smiled and nodded, helping him stand.  There was a swinging bench on the porch they sat upon, and Severus pushed it with his legs.  Despite the embrace they just shared, he was afraid to touch her._

_She solved that problem for him when she laid her head on his shoulder._

_He allowed the silence to stretch for a bit, but he really wanted to know what the important condition was._

_"Malika?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_He moved his arm behind her shoulders and caressed her right one.  "What was the condition?"_

_"While it is true my child had to be conceived in chaos and despair, true love had to be present."_

_He closed his eyes and placed a lingering kiss to the top of her head.  "We don't know if it worked."_

_He felt her smile rather than saw it, and she moved his hand to touch her stomach._

_"It did.  I can feel it.  Feel the magic within this child.  Feel the love surrounding it.  She may have been conceived in chaos and despair, but your love shields her from it.  You rubbed myrrh on me for a reason, love.  It needed you to protect her.  You _will_ protect her.  She is your daughter."_

_His hand trembled as he rubbed her tummy.  How could he—a man who'd done such terrible things—possibly protect this child from the very evils that resided within him?_

_"As long as you love her, Severus, she has nothing to fear.  She'll be surrounded by men and women who love her—you included.  Can't you accept this?"_

_He opened his eyes, and they locked on hers.  In them, Severus saw all she had to offer._

_And finally, after all the pain he'd endured, he was ready for happiness._

_He was ready to accept it all._

_Severus narrowed his eyes.  "How do you know the baby's a she?"_

_Malika's eyes squinted with mirth.  "A mama always knows, honey.  Besides, the last time I checked, Aset was female . . ."_

_He smiled softly and placed his palm on her cheek.  "Marry me."_

_She didn't look the least bit surprised at his proposal, and she kissed his lips softly.  He'd missed her lips so much, but he didn't give into his urge to deepen it._

_"Yes."_

_Never had the word meant so much to him than at that moment._

_"We'll do it the Muggle way; that way they can't trace this baby or me back to you.  I'm dangerous—"_

_"You're perfect for me."_

_His smile widened.  "I want to do this right."_

_A sly grin formed on her face.  "Dumbledore is here."_

_Severus sighed and lifted his eyes to the heavens.  "No wonder he was so adamant I come here during Easter holiday."_

_"He wants you to be happy."_

_He nodded.  "I know.  But must he be so meddlesome to accomplish it?"_

_She giggled and began to stand.  Severus stood and helped her, wrapping his arms around her waist once she got to her feet._

_"He's going to marry us in the same ceremony he married my great-grandmother.  They couldn't legally marry, so they married in the tradition of her village."_

_"I don't need a piece of paper to promise myself to you, love."_

_She looked away from him shyly, and he kissed her forehead._

_"I was thinking tomorrow . . . on Easter Sunday . . ."_

_"But why then?"_

_"The resurrection of Jesus and the resurrection of your new life.  Also, in Egyptian practices, the Paschal moon represents the rabbit—the symbol of fertility of the springtime—and," she said, replacing his hand on her belly, "I want to give my baby girl all the help she can get."_

_He chuckled.  "That explains the phenomenon of the bunny rabbit, then, doesn't it?"_

_She giggled again and leaned into him.  "I'm sorry about my mother earlier.  Grandpa told her the circumstances as well, but since she very well can't hit a prophecy, she's taking her frustration out on you instead."_

_"Joy."_

_"She really appreciates what you've done, though."_

_"Just not the method.  I understand."_

_The next few moments passed by in silence, interrupted by crickets chirping, when a piercing cry echoed from the house._

_"Malika Javier Roberts!  You get inside!  It's still early April, yet!  It ain't _that_ warm!"_

_They laughed at her mother's worried plea, knowing it was more out of habit than anything._

_"Are you coming?"_

_He nodded.  "I'll be inside in a minute, love."_

_She smiled, and they shared a final kiss before she went inside._

_He turned and walked down the porch steps.  He lifted his head and stared at the sky.  For the first time in four years, Severus felt an inner peace._

_He finally found what he'd been missing._

A pair of arms went around his shoulders, and he started much like he did fourteen years ago.

"Daddy."

He leaned into her embrace, glad she had opened to him again.  The first semester of this year had been among the loneliest of his life because she was not there.

"Enjoying your holiday, love?"

She snorted.  "Would you enjoy it if Grandma was running you ragged every other night?"

He chuckled.  "Believe me, I feel your pain."

"I think you've felt enough of that to last a lifetime," she said seriously.

Her words humbled him, and he turned his face to her.  A hand cupped her cheek.  "Better me than you, love.  I'm supposed to protect you . . . seems I've done a less than stellar job of that in recent memory."

"You've done the best you could."

"And, as before, it's not good enough."

She shook her head and grasped his face between her palms.  "Don't talk like that, Daddy.  It has been.  I'm here, ain't I?"

He smiled softly.  "Yes, Little One, you are."

She sighed.  "I guess I haven't been helpin' your self-esteem, calling you what I did and being mean to you—"

"It's not as if you weren't telling the truth."

She had no reply except to walk before him and sit in his lap.  Severus cradled her to him, thinking of a time when she was much smaller but just as precious.

"I may not know the entire story, Daddy, but I know enough.  Mama trusted you, Dumbledore trusts you, and I think Grandma trusts you, even though she'd eat her own hand before admitting it."

Severus chuckled at her assessment of Jamilah.

"I trust you.  I love you.  How can I not?  For the past thirteen years, you've done nothing but love me and protect me.  I know something had to happen to make you do what you did, something that I'm not supposed to know yet but which means everything to who I am today.  Why am I who I am . . ."

He squeezed her to him.  "You dreamed, didn't you?"

She nodded.  "Yes, I did."

"Does it have something to do with me?"

She shrugged.  "It could.  But it has more to do with Draco and Ginny."

His heart sped in his chest.  "No, Nia . . ."

She looked sad but not dejected—a good sign if he ever saw one.  "In order to save her from a fate like my mother's, one of you will have to be revealed."

He froze.  For one, the jig was up . . . 

"Have you talked with the headmaster?"

She shook her head.  "But I have spoken with Draco.  He said he wanted to be revealed."

Snape shook his head.  "That's a fool's errand, if I ever heard one.  It's better if I'm the one who gives myself up."

Her arms tightened around his neck, and she burrowed her face to his shoulder.  "I was afraid you'd say that."

"I've wanted out for a long time, love.  Perhaps now I can finally achieve that goal."

"Not if it ends with you dying!  Don't you know I need you here?"

Snape's mind drifted to Malika telling him what his role would be in Nia's life, and he swallowed past a lump in his throat.

"I'll always love you, Little One.  I'll always protect you."

She scrambled off his lap and began stomping wildly.  "Dammit!  Mama said the same thing almost five years ago, and where is _she?_  She's not here!  And here you are, trying to do the same thing?  You're gonna get yourself killed!  And then where will I be?"

"You'll have Draco . . ."

"Draco . . . is _not_ . . . my father!  I need _you!_  You've always been there for me—before I even knew who Caleb _was,_ it was always you!  Now you think to pawn me off like some stereo?"  She stood her ground and crossed her arms in front her.  "I won't let you."

Snape didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her outburst, so he raised an eyebrow.  "And just how do you plan to do that, Little One?"

She faltered a bit but didn't sway.  "I don't know right yet, but when I do you'll be the first to know."

He chuckled.  "Excellent."

She sucked her teeth.  "Don't _mock_ me!"

"Never, Little One."

She sighed and began to pace.  "Maybe this won't happen for a ways off yet.  It could give us time to think of something . . . _anything_ . . ."

As she muttered, the door to his chambers hissed open.

"Professor?"

Draco was somber, his hands holding a piece of parchment.

He dreaded what the contents of it held.

Severus heard Nia's breathing grow heavy, but he did not take his eyes away from the younger man.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Draco glanced at the parchment, what little color he had leaving him as he did.

"I've got a summons from my father."

Severus closed his eyes and allowed the full impact of the words hit him.

"When does he want an audience with you?"

"Easter Sunday."

Dread made itself comfortable in the pit of his stomach.  Easter Sunday was a week away.

It would have been his and Malika's fourteenth wedding anniversary this year.

"Do you know what he wants?"

Draco shook his head.  "All the parchment says is, 'It's time.'"

Severus looked from Draco to Nia.  Her eyes widened and filled with tears, but she nodded in resignation.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he said with determination.  "It is most definitely time."


	21. Twenty One

_Twenty-One_

The sound of footsteps echoed loudly—a bit too loudly to be comfortable. Luckily there had been no one else during the trip from the dungeons to the main stairs.

That had been the easy part.

Being a prefect definitely had its advantages, the main of which was the ability to be in the corridors well after curfew. While normally he would abuse the privilege because he could, tonight held a special reason.

It was Ginny's birthday.

He felt in his robe pockets for her gift and thumbed it nervously. Never had he put such thought and care into a present; normally he wouldn't even _get _one for people, but Ginny wasn't just people.

She was his heart, his love.

Draco snorted at the sap oozing through his head, but he couldn't deny the truth of it. Ever since that fateful meeting with the gods last semester, he'd had to confront the fact he loved his Little Weasel and that this love would be a source of power against evil.

Against Set and Voldemort.

Against his father.

Draco knew it was a death wish to betray him, but he felt the plan to be worth it. He loved Ginny more than he ever loved his father, and if given a choice between the two—Ginny would win every time. What his father never gave him—love, respect, pride—he got from Ginny, Nia, Snape, his mother . . . even Sirius was starting to become okay with him, though he still reminded him too much of Potter.

Draco still didn't like Potter.

They might work together, but it was with cool disdain. No wizard war in the world would make Draco like Potter more than grudging respect—and that was at its most basic level.

Besides, he treated two of the most important women in his life like shit, and that was _not_ okay.

_He_ may have teased Nia about liking the wanker, but Harry had no right to do the same. The heartbreak on Nia's face was more than he could bear, and for every blow he gave to Harry, he'd dedicated it to Nia.

_Besides, it was so good to watch Potty bleed._

He smirked to himself. He briefly understood why Voldemort wanted Harry so badly. There was just a rush of satisfaction that almost couldn't be matched at the sight of Potter dripping crimson from blows he inflicted.

Then he reminded himself of Ginny's kisses, and thoughts of Potter went blissfully to the wayside.

Draco remembered the first kiss they shared. They were on the Pitch, and he was sulking from Potter's indictment of his father in the _Quibbler._ When Ginny came out there and said "you are not your father," the overwhelming wave of relief almost frightened him. He thought he didn't care what others thought, until she gave him her absolution. It was then he knew he _did_, and hers was the most important of all. After that, everyone else became inconsequential, and he had to kiss her. The kisses were soft, barely there, but he felt tingles he'd never felt when he kissed other girls.

It was then he knew he had no chance in hell.

Ginevra Weasley hooked him by her faith in him.

That's not to say people _hadn't._ His mum, Nia, and Snape had, at one point or another, expressed similar sentiments, but there was something about hearing it from a supposed enemy that made it more special.

Or it could be the fact Saint Potter's crush was now _his_ crush.

His love.

He'd practically entered the Slytherin common room in a giddy mess that night.

And everyone knew a Malfoy was _never_ giddy.

Still Draco didn't give a wank about the curious stares and snickers he received. He returned as good as he got, and they left him alone. But since the affirmation by the Ministry about Voldemort's return, the House atmosphere started to make a gradual change.

He knew people were looking to him for guidance, of what they should do and how they should behave. It was pretty much a known fact his father was one of the main, if not the right hand, Death Eater to Voldemort, so logic would conclude Draco himself would be the next powerful Death Eater after his father. It was a hard expectation to fulfill, especially when he didn't want to fulfill it the first place. Then the extra lessons with the DADA professor raised even more eyebrows—but not just with Slytherins. Everyone in the school knew he had lessons with Potter, Ginny and the younger Slytherin, and everyone found that combination odd. The Golden Trio's heroics were nothing short of gossip and almost nothing more than legendary; the fact Draco was actually _practicing_ with them raised more than a few eyebrows.

He'd told them what better way to defeat them than to know how Potty fights . . . . then he added "like a girl" as a final sting.

He chuckled to himself; he wished he _could_ fight as well as Ginny and Nia. Those two were hellions with a weapon.

Draco smirked. Ginny was a hellion, regardless.

And he liked it.

She was all fire to his icy personality, and while he knew it sounded cliché even to his own ears, there was no better way to explain it. They balanced each other beautifully—she sparking life into his dull and horribly predictable existence, and he slowing her down to enjoy and savor every moment.

Especially the moments where they were physical with each other.

Since the beginning of the school year, they'd grown bolder with each other; hands now made frequent appearances on each other's bodies. Clothes had yet to be removed, but flesh had been discovered, and he discovered Ginny Weasley's flesh to be the softest he'd ever touched.

It made him want to burrow into her and never leave.

_In more ways than one . . _

The unfortunate side effect of being around Miss Weasley was the perpetual discomfort he had in his nether regions.

He was always hot for her.

Sometimes all it took was a smile before he'd be gone, and he wouldn't come back until well after, when he was in his room and far as physically possible away from her.

He didn't like being away from her—not for one minute.

And now, in a week's time, when they went home for summer holiday, there was the potential he'd be away from her forever.

Forever was too damn long without Ginny.

There was to be a Dark Revel the day students went home in Hogsmeade—in the Shrieking Shack—and he was to lure her there some way so Pettigrew could have her, reclaim her as his.

_The wanker should realize by now Malfoys don't share . . . and neither does Osiris . . finders' keepers . . ._

He'd surrender to the Dark Lord before he'd hurt Ginny, and that had the definite possibility of happening if he was forced to do what Ron accused him of doing in that dream.

He'd cornered her afterwards during one of their patrol session and forced her to go through everything that happened in the dream. Once she did, he couldn't look at her, couldn't even _touch_ her until about a week afterwards. He vowed to do everything in his power to prevent that from happening, and the trust she put in him humbled him. But now, with the chain of events almost echoing what happened in her dream, Draco was becoming increasingly worried.

Lucius wanted him there at the Shack before Ginny arrived, to have everything for the Conception Ritual prepared. He wanted to throw up when his father told him that. Ginny just turned sixteen years old today, and they were trying to make her a mother to some evil spawn. He raised an eyebrow.

_The only "spawn of evil" she's allowed to have is _my_ spawn!_

Well, that's what the Weasel and his friends called him—the spawn of evil. Even still, it would not happen in some Ritual with a bunch of horny pedophiles wishing they had a go at her. Hell. No.

_And _why_ am I thinking about children at a time like this? I have to be alive before that can happen!_

He was quite partial to living, actually, especially with Ginny in his life.

And he intended for her to stay there.

_But _that_ requires both of us to live . . _

That would be the hard part, of course—surviving the ordeal. How did one rescue not one, not two, but _four_ lives from the clutches of Voldemort, Set, and Death Eaters in one fell swoop? It was almost a given Potter would find a way to work himself in the plan—even without an invitation. Nia asked to help, but she was greeted with four emphatic _No's!_ Draco, Snape, Dumbledore, and Professor Roberts were not prepared to send her in harm's way—especially Dumbledore and Professor Roberts. Nia promptly gave them the silent treatment for two weeks before they bent a little and said she could assist, but not go into the field.

Dumbledore, Professor Roberts, and Snape spent extra time training him for this directive. Snape taught him high level Occlumency and the basic forms of Legilimency. Professor Roberts trained him in hand-to-hand combat herself, helping his already impressive reflexes improve. Dumbledore went over scenario after scenario so that he would not be surprised by any sequence of events.

But the most helpful of all was Nia. Even after the training with Professor Roberts, they would meet after hours and sneak into a spare classroom where they would transfigure desks and other items in order to train even more. She taught him more about the Egyptian myths as well as Coptic. But the most important was to help him make the gift for Ginny. She continually pressed upon him to tell Ginny the truth, to tell her he loved her. Truth be told, he'd been sitting on that declaration for the better part of the year, scared to death of his feelings not being returned. When Ginny told him during the first training session after break, he'd been ecstatic and upset. He wanted to tell her first, but since she did, his pride got in his way. But now, it was more important than ever he told her. There was a good chance something could happen he didn't anticipate, and that could mean disaster. It was bad enough he had to keep it a secret from Ginny and Potter, but the fact she dreamed the situation did not put his mind at ease.

He sighed as he reached the midpoint of his trek to the seventh floor. He'd been warned, re-warned, and practically bullied about the operation, but he would not be swayed. This needed to be done, and while Snape and Dumbledore went on about "sacrifices," Ginny would _not_ be one of them.

She was too precious to him to do that.

That's not to say the sacrifices that _were _made didn't involve people who were cherished. Draco understood why Snape had to do what he did, especially after the conversation with the gods. Nia _had_ to be here, if there was any chance of defeating Set and Voldemort.

He grinned. It was Nia's birthday, as well.

Draco chuckled at the irony. According to legend, Isis and Nephthys were twins, and Isis was the oldest by minutes. Despite Ginny being older in years, Nia's birth time was earlier than Ginny's by minutes. And Nia was born six weeks premature to boot, considering her due date was the end of July.

_Fate is a funny thing._

They almost squealed his and Potter's eardrums out when they found they had a birthday in common. Draco was just lucky they weren't in mid-combat, or the jump he made at the sound could've made him lose something precious.

Like his head.

Oddly enough, Nia opted out of a large party and chose to spend time with Snape, her grandmother and Dumbledore. Ginny said they'd celebrate together once school let out, seeing as Angelina was practically family anyway.

Draco and Nia became somber, and infernal Potter picked up on it, nudging Nia with his knee to ask what was wrong.

Draco sneered at the concern and his own reaction, for he finally realized what the Weasel felt like when he did the same to Ginny.

He barely stomached the revelation.

Draco _really_ almost lost his stomach when Potter hugged Nia's shoulders and she leaned her head against his.

_Another one bites the dust._

Ginny exclaimed she thought it was sweet. Draco promptly kissed her to prevent any more saccharin from coming out that delicious mouth of hers.

He licked his own lips as he remembered the taste of her . . the sweetest of crème.

_And I am about to contaminate her._

He couldn't help thinking maybe he should've told Potter about the plan, but then that would put his own neck on the chopping block.

Draco thought his head looked so much better attached to his shoulders.

_The plan . . ._

Just thinking about it made him quake with fear. Who was more important to keep a secret—him or Snape? Draco had an inkling Snape would sacrifice himself, but Draco could not let that happen. Nia needed Snape far more than she needed him. And Ginny . . . he sighed. He would say Harry could treat her right, but that would require Nia's heart to break, and he couldn't allow that to happen. Maybe that Longbottom oaf could do okay . . . he did take her to the Yule Ball . . . and stepped on her toes . . repeatedly.

After having an intimate interaction with said toes, Draco thought that was sacrilege.

Just as this "Conception Ritual" was: sacrilege.

Which was why he formed his own plan—independent of the adults—all with Nia's guidance.

He only hoped it worked.

_Speaking of working . . ._

Draco checked his breath by blowing it into his palm and straightened his robes as he walked to the Room of Requirement. He opened the door and looked around the space.

_Perfect._

The Room was now a small, yet stately ballroom. The walls were scarlet with the silhouette of lions in a darker shade of red. The floor was gold-colored with green snake patterns. The snakes seemed to move in place as if they were slithering, and they complimented the silver-snake candleholders on the walls and the chandelier that hung from the ceiling. There was a glass table on the far wall with a pitcher filled with pumpkin juice and a platter of edibles.

He thought he could not have decorated the room better himself; not that he ever _would_ do such a thing, but there was still something bothering him.

_This room is a bit too Gryffindor for my taste . . oh yes . . . _

He didn't even have to raise his wand as the Room transformed one of the walls into one of mirrors.

Now _it's perfect!_

He walked to the refreshment table and poured two glasses of pumpkin juice. As he did so, he heard the door open, and he grinned to himself. When he turned around, he almost spilled the beverages down his expensive robes.

Exquisite.

Revolting.

_What in the bloody hell is Harry Potter doing with _my _girlfriend?!_

He was about to retort when Harry put up a hand to silence him.

"Before you start, I'm just here to drop off Ginny."

"I'd think she's old enough to walk by herself," Draco drawled.

Potter sighed and lifted his eyes to the heavens. "Yes, she is, but the fact remains Ron has put Ginny under 'constant surveillance,' if you will."

"He's right cracked, I tell you," Ginny muttered.

"Not my problem," Draco said flatly.

Potter narrowed his eyes. "It _will_ be your problem if I go back to the Tower without Ginny!"

Draco sighed; the bugger had a point.

"Well, it seems to me, Potty, you're in a bit of a quandary. May you please take it somewhere else? The lady and I would like time _alone_."

Ginny got a sly look on her face. "Why don't you go to the dungeons? It's Nia's birthday as well."

Both boys shot her a look. "What?" she asked with mock innocence. "It _is!_"

"He doesn't know the password," Draco said smoothly.

Harry lifted an eyebrow at him. "I can figure it out."

"What makes you think she wants to see you, anyway, the way you're always so hot and cold with her!" Draco seethed.

Harry's eyes widened, and he turned red with shame before he narrowed them again. "She's a Slytherin, and Slytherins always like presents . . . whether they deserve them or not," Potter responded, looking meaningfully between the couple. It was all he could do to keep from ripping Potter a new one.

"Leave, Potty. Now."

Potter held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll come back to get you in two hours, Ginny."

Draco was incensed. "Two hours! That's not enough time to—"

"To _what,_ Malfoy? If it's what I think you're saying, I'm sure you'll be done before the door properly catches the lock after I leave!"

Draco's blood boiled at Potty's smug look and Ginny's snicker. He raised his eyebrows in a picture of nonchalance. "At least I'll be able to get my pants down. You wouldn't even have time to reach for your belt."

Potter turned red, and Ginny snorted. His lips formed a thin line. "Two hours, Ferret, or I may have to tell Prefect Weasley what Prefect Ferret is doing with his sister."

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked. "How Slytherin of you."

Potter glared at him but said nothing as he left the room. It wasn't until he heard the door click that Draco turned his attention to Ginny.

_Praise Merlin!_

She wore a Muggle dress, and for once Draco had nothing disparaging to say about it. The dress was deep red with an iridescent quality to it. It had two straps, which, upon realization, as she turned to see the room, crisscrossed at the back. The skirt was long, reaching to her ankles where a pair of red, strappy heels adorned her feet. All he could do was stare at her as she was staring at the room.

"Draco, the room is gorgeous!"

"And yet it pales in comparison to you, love."

Ginny's back stiffened at his comment, and she turned slowly to face him. Tonight her hair was pulled from her face in a tight chignon. She wore very little makeup, so her freckles could be seen across her nose.

Draco planned to become very acquainted with those freckles before the night ended.

_Two hours . . . what a bloody wanker!_

He growled, and she tilted her head. "Something the matter?" she asked.

"Two hours is not enough time."

Ginny rolled her eyes and began to walk about the room. "I know it's not, but it's the only reasonable time frame. If we went beyond that, it would not have been believable."

"How do you mean? Where is your git of a brother anyway?"

"Ron apparently had a patrol to do, and Hermione . . . probably stuck somewhere in the library. They've been spending a great deal of time there recently."

Draco snorted. "I thought Granger was always a bookworm."

Ginny laughed a bit. "_She's_ been, but what explains Ron's sudden interest in books?"

Draco smirked. "Granger has Weasel on a leash. She yanks, he follows; it's as simple as that."

Ginny glared at him, and he shrugged. "Anyway . . enough about them. Where's my present?"

She held out her hand expectantly, and his smirk melted into a grin. He walked towards her and placed his hand in hers.

"Happy Birthday."

She frowned in confusion. "What are you playing at?"

He grinned even more and drew her close to him. Draco put the hand he held at his waist then grabbed the other to mirror its partner. He placed his own hands on her face and drew her mouth to his. It was a sweet kiss with only the press of his lips against hers. He opened her mouth with his and pressed his tongue against her teeth. She opened her mouth wider, but he drew his tongue back. He heard her whimper, and he chuckled.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked.

Draco felt her mouth pout beneath his, and he suppressed a shudder. "You won't kiss me properly."

He chuckled again, and his teeth grasped the thick pad of her lower lip. "Define properly," he muttered around her lip.

Ginny slammed herself into him and deepened the kiss, her arms going around his neck. Draco groaned and returned her affection ten-fold, flirting with the line of pain and pleasure as his teeth gnashed against hers.

_If we keep going like this, I may_ not_ need the full two hours!_

Against his will as well as hers, he separated them, though he kept some part of his body constantly touching hers.

"Ginevra."

She scowled at the use of his full name. "I told you not to call me—"

His lips stilled hers into silence. "I think I should use your 'birth' name for your 'birthday,' no?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "No."

Draco chuckled and nodded in compliance. "Ginny it is, then."

"Good. Now about my present . . ."

He stepped away from her and held her hands. "I don't know if I can compete with Nia's and Professor Roberts' gift. The dress is exquisite."

She beamed at him. "I know! I think there are some magical properties in it because when I put it on, it hummed. I felt all tingly, too."

His eyebrow quirked at that bit of information. He remembered staying behind with Nia and Professor Roberts after the training sessions as they worked on the dress. Nia cut out the pattern, muttering as she did so, and Professor Roberts sewed together the dress. For some reason, the professor always asked him to hand her the needle, and every time he did so, he'd prick his finger. She'd say she was sorry about his finger, but there was always a glint in her eye as she did so.

Draco now suspected he was used for more than his needle-retrieving services.

He touched the fabric, and it felt slightly rough, though, not of cotton. "It's from flax."

Ginny nodded. "It's such an interesting feeling . . ."

He began to rub his hand along her side torso. She trembled under his caress.

"Does it hum still?"

She shook her head. "It was a brief thing, as soon as I put it on. It hasn't done anything since, but I am rather warm. It's nice."

"Darling, it is June. Of course it's warm!"

She blushed, and he smiled at her. "Enough about the dress! Where's _your _gift!?"

He lifted an eyebrow at her. "You are very concerned about this gift, love. I thought you liked being with me!"

Ginny groaned in exasperation. "I _do!_ It's not everyday it's a girl's birthday, however. But if you didn't get me a gift, that's fine. Just don't keep me in suspense!"

He smiled at her, thinking her beautiful, yet dejected face somewhat endearing.

"How about a little music?" he asked, totally ignoring her comment. He muttered a spell, and a slow waltz began to play. Ginny looked around in wonder before turning amazed eyes to him. Draco offered her a hand, and she accepted it. He put her left hand on his right shoulder and his right hand at her waist. Their clasped hands were extended from them.

"What are we about to do?" she asked.

"Dance," he said simply.

Her eyes widened in horror, and she tensed. "I don't know how to dance like this!"

Draco was unconcerned as his thumb caressed the small of her back. He grinned when he felt her relax. "I'll teach you."

She frowned. "But what if I bugger it?"

He drew their joined hands to their sides and stepped closer to her. Draco placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "It won't make me love you any less if you do . . ."

The hand on his shoulder tightened its grasp, and a strangled sound came from her. He moved back a little to gaze into her eyes.

They were wide and glassy.

"What?"

He moved his hands to frame her face and kissed her lips softly.

"I love you, Ginevra."

Ginny began to tremble, and she let out a long breath.

"Ginny?"

She chuckled, and after a few moments, it transformed into a hearty laugh.

_Okay . . . _not_ the reaction I expected!_

"What's so funny?" he asked, the hurt creeping into his voice.

She sobered a bit, but a few chuckles escaped. "You are."

Draco scowled. "I fail to see the humor in all of this! Care to enlighten me?"

Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she snuggled into his chest.

"And here you are, trying to be coy about my gift . . . it's perfect, Draco."

His hurt gave way to confusion. "What are you on about? I haven't given your gift to you, yet!"

"You gave me love. There's nothing more I need."

There was silence for a moment; then it was his turn to chuckle. "You had that long before now."

She pulled away from him slightly and beamed at him. "Really?"

He kissed her softly. "Really."

"When?"

His lips brushed her cheeks as he made his way to her ear. "I finally admitted it to myself when we had our first patrol together."

"That was at the beginning of term!"

"Yes . . ."

"And when we met the gods!"

"Yes . . ." He grasped her earlobe with his teeth. She always loved it when he did that.

"That was the first time you called me love."

He grinned against her and nodded. "I meant it then and I mean it now, love."

"Me, too."

He stepped away from her and pulled a package out of his deep green robes. It was wrapped with silver paper and a gold bow.

"Happy Birthday, love."

She tore off the wrapping with excitement and popped open the velvet box. She gasped.

"Draco . . ." She lifted one of the diamonds and held it before her. The stone was in a platinum setting.

He smiled softly. "Do you like it?"

Ginny could only stare at him as she held the jewel in her hand.

"How . . . when . . ."

"I have my connections." He grinned. "But to be honest, during Christmas break, when Father wasn't around. Mum and I would go shopping. She actually suggested it."

"But my ears aren't pierced."

"I know. They'll have to be pierced."

She frowned. "But it will hurt!"

"Only for a moment. Please, Ginny."

She took a deep breath as she stared at the diamond. A faint smile played at her lips. "Can you help me?"

He took the gem from her and took the back of the earring. He put his hands on her earlobe and muttered a spell. Her lobe glowed red, and he stuck the earring through it, securing the jewel with its back.

"Did it hurt?" he asked quietly.

"I've had more pain when stubbing a toe!"

He chuckled and kissed her cheek before following the same procedure with her other ear. When he finished, Ginny grasped her earlobes in wonder.

"It's that same humming feeling I got with the dress . . . . Are the earrings magical, too?"

He nodded. "They are in that they can be removed by no one but you, and only when you do it of your free will."

She looked confused. "But why would I ever want to take them off?"

"That is a very excellent question, love."

Ginny smiled and gave him a kiss. "Why do I get the feel they're more than ornamental?"

Draco tapped her nose. "Nebt-het _was_ right about you." Ginny's smile widened, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You whisper a charm, and the earrings will change into Portkeys. All you have to do is think of a destination, and you'll be whisked away there."

Ginny blinked in shock. "How? What's the spell?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm only telling you what Dumbledore and Professor Roberts have told me. They said you'd know what it was when the time came."

Fear crept in her eyes, and Draco cursed it. "Something's going to happen to me, isn't it?"

"We don't know that—"

"Liar. That nightmare I had around Christmas . . . the Death Eaters are going to try to make that reality." She tried to back away from him, but Draco would not let her.

"Dumbledore, Professor Roberts, Black, and Snape have done everything they can to protect you. I've worked doubly hard to assure what happened to Nia's mum won't happen to you. You will _not_ be a sacrifice in this war, Ginny. You will _not_ be a casualty!"

Ginny shook her head earnestly. "Neither are you."

Draco sighed and backed away from her. "Ginny . . ." he began with exasperation. "People will have to die. I'm prepared to die. In fact, Osiris _did_ die once . . ."

"Because he was stupid and let Set trick him into stepping into a coffin!"

Draco glared at her. "There's more to that story, and you know it."

Ginny snorted and crossed her arms before her. "Doubt it. Osiris was a bit nosey."

"Or maybe he was trying to protect his equally nosey wife."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Isis? But Nia's not in any danger . . ."

"And that's only because they don't know who she is. But they know who you are. They know exactly who you are."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "But—but—how?"

"You healed Harry, and you apparently used your powers again. Pettigrew knows about you."

"Pettigrew?" Ginny gasped. "You don't mean to say he's _Set!_"

He nodded. "I mean to, and he is. Nasty bastard, that one."

"And he wants me to . . ." Ginny's eyes flashed. "Never. Not even the Imperius Curse would make me do that!"

"He'll use other leverage than that, Ginny. Like Harry."

He saw her eyes flash, and he had to squelch the jealousy he felt.

"Why would he be leverage for me? If anything, I'd be leverage for _him_."

"Perhaps for Voldemort, but for Set, he wants you back."

"Shudder."

"I know."

"But Harry can defeat them! He did it when he was a baby . . ."

"Set is not child's play. You know this as well as I."

"But he's getting better and better at every training session. We all are."

"Yes, but something tells me he's only just tapped into his powers."

"Maybe this means he's stopped denying to himself he liked Nia."

Draco scowled. "Ugh."

Ginny grinned. "You'll have to square with that eventually, love. Perhaps now you know how Harry and Ron feel."

"Don't ever compare me to Dumb and Dumber."

Ginny snickered and wrapped her arms around him again. "Enough talk about Set and Voldemort and icky things. You owe me a lesson in dancing, Mr. Malfoy."

He grinned and rubbed his nose against hers. "Forget the dancing. I'd rather hold you."

"Mmmm . . . . forever . ."

He kissed her and murmured against her lips. "Forever."


	22. Twenty Two

_Twenty-Two_

Number 12 Grimmauld Place had never been so tense.

Everyone at the table sat in silence as they waited for some word on the missing students.  Dumbledore had Flooed in to inform them of what transpired earlier that afternoon.  Ginny and Harry never boarded the Hogwarts Express, and Snape warned of a Dark Revel that would occur sometime that day as well.  Chances were the two teenagers were there.  As it was, most of the members of the Order were now in Hogsmeade trying to diffuse the situation and return the children in one piece.

Angelina couldn't help but feel out of place, seeing as neither of the hostages had any familial relation with her.  Beside her, Fred's leg bounced up and down in nervousness, a habit he did unawares.  Angelina was glad of the movement for once; it kept her mind off worrying.

She placed a comforting hand on his knee.  He continued to stare at a spot on the table, but his hand was warm, yet sweaty, as it grasped hers tightly.

Fred tried to be strong then, back in fourth year when they were in a similar situation:  Ginny in the grips of Voldemort and evil, Harry going to save the day, and anxious Weasleys waiting.

Again.

_Can't this family ever catch a break?_

After the Chamber incident in fourth year, Death Eaters attacked Fred's father last year.  Six months after that, Ginny _and_ Ron laid in the hospital to recover from the fight in the Department of Mysteries.

A little over a year later, Death Eaters wreaked havoc on the family again.

"It's not fair."

Fred threaded their fingers together and squeezed.  "I agree.  This ruddy blows."

"Fucking Death Eaters!" George muttered.

"Mind your language, George!" Mrs. Weasley chastised half-heartedly.

George rolled his eyes and shoved away from the table.  Mrs. Weasley looked at him for a moment before realizing he was going to the door.

"And _where_ do you think_ you're_ going?"

"I'm going to Hogsmeade myself.  No Dark Bloke can mess with my sister _twice_ without letting me whack him good at least _once!_"

"And _once_ is the only time your likely to get because he would kill you the second go 'round!  Sit _down, _George!  The fewer children I have in the street the better I'll feel.  You know your brother will be here soon."

George glared at his mother but complied with her request.  Mr. Weasley had left earlier to pick up Ron from the train station.  No doubt the youngest male Weasley was primed and ready to fight You-Know-Who.

"Speaking of which, I need to get my sister from the train station, as well," Angelina said as she stood.

Molly frowned.  "Sister?"

Fred put a hand on Angelina's arm.  "She really needs to get her, Mum . . ."

But Angelina was curious.  "Yes, sister.  My father had relations with my mum's cousin and—"

Molly's mouth opened, and a gasp escaped.  "Malika?"

"Yes."

"She had a child?  I always assumed it didn't work—"

"_What_ didn't work?!"

"The plan, the raid . . . oh my . . . she had a child?  A little girl?  She always wanted a girl . . "

"You knew her?" Angelina asked, flabbergasted.

Molly's eyes grew wild.  "Know her?  Dear heavens, child!  Who do you think taught me how to bake sweet potato pie?"

"Your pie is wonderful, Mum.  Think you can make one after Dad gets here with Ron and Harry with Ginny?" George asked.

Molly tutted him before focusing on the young woman.  "Well, I assumed after the raid she died, or at the very least disappeared.  No one heard from her again . . but now I see it was a part of the plan . . ."

"Raid?"

"Plan?"

Molly nodded.  "There were months of planning that went on about the raid.  Malika, along with Lily and James, went into hiding . . . they had Secret-Keepers.  All three were betrayed.  The Potters, of course, by Pettigrew, and Malika by Severus."

Angelina's mouth dropped open.  "Are you serious?"

Molly scowled.  "I didn't have a kind word to say to him for months after that."

Fred snickered.  "Who would _ever_ have a kind word to say to him?  He probably wouldn't understand the meaning of it anyway."

"That's not nice, Fred," Molly said with a bit of a grin.

Angelina was still confused.  "But Snape loved Malika . . . they seemed so happy . . ."

"We thought so, too, until he gave up her location to the Death Eaters.  Remus, Caleb, and Elle took it the hardest of anyone.  We couldn't understand why Albus kept him in the Order after that."

"That's a good question, come to think of it.  Methinks he handed Harry and Ginny over to them, just as he did with Malika!" George said darkly.

Molly glared at him.  "Don't say a thing like that, George!  We didn't realize, until long afterwards, the betrayal was a part of Albus' plan to raid the Dark Revel."

"A Dark Revel?  But You-Know-Who wasn't around by then!" Angelina said.

Molly shook her head.  "Dark activity was just as dangerous as it was before he fell, love.  Your father, Arthur, Remus, Mad-Eye—they all made busts many times during the year after You-Know-Who's fall.  He might have been gone, but he certainly wasn't forgotten."

"But Harry—"

"Didn't kill him, obviously, but he did make people realize You-Know-Who was defeatable."

"Always good to know," Fred said dryly.  Angelina snickered and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, but at the time Albus was afraid Severus would be a target, so Malika was used as a bargaining piece to keep Severus on the Death Eaters' good side and to keep Severus alive for the Order."

Angelina felt awful at the news.  "That must've been terrible!  To give up the person you love like that . . I don't think I could bear it!"

"Whew!  I was getting worried there, love," Fred said with a wink.

"Gag me," George muttered.

"Gladly."

Molly became contemplative.  "Severus was horribly short with Albus for months before it happened.  Of course, I know the story now, but at the time many of the Order members thought he'd defected back to the Death Eaters when he betrayed Malika as he did.  But it was clear he wasn't thrilled with the plan at all.  Severus even walked out of meetings before they were done.  I thought it was his usual surliness, but now it all makes sense.  Severus _did_ love Malika . . I have a new sympathy for the man now . . ."

"And yet Angelina's dad is the father?  That makes no sense!" George exclaimed.

Molly took a deep breath.  "It does make sense if you knew why they wanted Malika in the first place . . ."

Angelina was afraid to ask, but curiosity got the better of her.  "Why did they want Cousin Malika, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly smiled sadly.  "Dear, I thought I said to call me Molly."

"Or if you wait a bit longer, Mummy!"

Angelina's mouth dropped open slightly and glanced at Fred.  He was giving his twin the look of death.

"I would like that as well, love.  You've been wonderful for my Frederick."

"MUM!"

Angelina felt she should lighten the mood before Fred's head exploded.  "Wish I could say the same, Mrs. Weasley."

Now Fred looked indignant.  "ANGEL!"

"Molly, dear."  A twinkle appeared in Molly's eye.  "Or Mummy."

Fred was now as red as a tomato.  "Cousin Malika, anyone?"

The lightened mood immediately grew heavy again, and Molly frowned.  "Malika was a very powerful witch.  I'd seen her do amazing things—things that even impressed Dumbledore!"

The young adults looked at each other in wonder.  Very few people could impress Dumbledore.

"Apparently, she impressed You-Know-Who, as well; in fact, she was the next target after Lily and James Potter . . ."

Thirty minutes later, Angelina, Fred, and George knew the story behind Malika's abduction and disappearance.

Angelina stood from the table and walked around with her hands around herself.  She was floored.  "So . . . my father didn't betray my mother after all . . ."

Molly shook her head and smiled softly.  "No, dear.  He loves your mother so much.  He wouldn't do a thing like that if it was in his control to do so."

"That's awful!" Angelina sighed.  "Poor Snape . . . poor _Nia . ._"

Molly's face crumpled.  "Poor Harry and Ginny!  It seems history wants to repeat itself with my children!"

"But Mum!  Harry's not your child!"

Molly blushed a bit.  "Oh . . . well . . . of course he isn't, but—"

"Ginny could marry the bloke and make it official, right?"

Molly huffed.  "Oh be quiet, George!"

"I'm Fred, Mum."

"No, _I'm_ Fred!"

"Why don't _both_ of you be quiet?" Angelina suggested.

Molly smiled.  "Yes, dear, you'll fit in quite nicely."

The real Fred approached Angelina and kissed her temple.  "I think Angel will, as well."

Her eyes widened, but he merely winked at her.  Now Angelina's heart raced in anticipation rather than anxiety.  Suddenly Mrs. Black's portrait began to screech, and Angelina jumped in shock.

"Dear Merlin!  Who's riled her up now?" George groaned.  No sooner had the words left his mouth than Arthur walked in the room with a trunk in each hand.  Pig fluttered wildly in his cage atop one trunk and Hedwig hooted loudly in her cage atop the other.  Ron hurried in behind his father with two more trunks, and Hermione followed with a satchel on both her arms.

"Arthur!"  Molly exclaimed as she rushed to relieve his load.

"I've got it, love; I'm fine," he said as he tried to shoo Molly away from him.  She complied but moved to help Ron instead.

"Mum!" Ron sighed, exasperated, but knew better than to deprive her of her self-appointed task.  Molly relieved him of a trunk and helped them drag it into the drawing room.

"Whose belongings are these?"

"Ginny's, Harry's, Ron's and—"

Angelina's eyes widened, and she interrupted Hermione.  "Nia!  I need to get—"

Caleb Johnson rushed inside before she could finish the sentence, carrying a seemingly unconscious Nia in his arms.

Molly dropped her trunk with a thud.  "Dear heavens!  Get her upstairs to one of the beds!  The poor dear . . ."

Angelina's blood ran cold as her father rushed the unresponsive girl upstairs with Molly in tow.

"What's wrong with her?" Angelina asked, her voice laced with panic.  "Why isn't she moving?"

Hermione turned sympathetic eyes to the older girl.  "She's been like this ever since we realized Harry and Ginny were missing.  She fainted on the train and hasn't woken since.  She keeps muttering things—stuff about Harry and Ginny and Malfoy and Snape . . . I think she's dreaming of what's happening . . ."

"MALFOY?!"

Hermione looked weary.  "I don't know the entire story . . . that's just my hypothesis."

"Well, if I know anything, I know Harry will get our sister," Ron said with determination.  The other Weasleys nodded in agreement.

"NO!"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other with fear.  "Harry!"  They both rushed up the stairs to see what was happening.  Angelina's own fear rose at the strangled cry of her sister.  She was about to follow the two teens when she heard a large thud from inside the living room.  She and the twins rushed to see what happened.  The room appeared normal, until a spot by the couch began to shimmer then disappear altogether as a heap of bodies appeared.  One body had a head of black hair, one with a head of red hair, and one with a head of platinum blonde.

"MALFOY!"

Fred and George lifted Harry first to get to the other boy, and they yanked him up roughly.

"What did you do to my sister, you prat?!" they bellowed in identical angry tones.

Draco's head lulled to the side.

"He was hit with a stunning spell before we got here.  He should come to, soon."

The twins dropped Malfoy like a sack of potatoes.  "I can't wait that long!" they said in unison as they drew out their wands.

"HEY!"

Fred and George jumped at Angelina's yell and looked at her in shock.

"It doesn't take two of you to do it," she said as she rolled her eyes.  "_Ennervate!"_

Malfoy groaned as he regained consciousness, and his eyes widened at the sight of two very angry Weasley twins.

"Hello."

Fred and George were ready to murder, but Harry stepped in front of Malfoy. "I'll tell you this—if it weren't for Malfoy, your sister would be an incubator for the Dark Lord's spawn by now!"

That comment stopped them in their tracks, and Angelina rushed to where Ginny was.  The younger girl was only in her underwear, and Angelina took off her robe to wrap around her.

"Ginny?  Can you hear me?"

She shivered and curled into a ball.  Brown eyes fringed with red lashes peered at Angelina.

"Draco?"

At the sound of his name, he crawled to where Ginny laid, picking up her head to cradle it in his lap.

"I'm here, love . . . everything's fine . . "

"You knew . . . you knew the entire time—"

"Shhh, Ginger, let's not talk about it."

"You saved me," she breathed.

"Yeah, and sentenced myself to death in the process," he said wryly.

Ginny frowned.  "Your father—"

"Will kill me upon sight.  But better me than you, love.  Besides, Osiris died twice . . ."

"You're not going to die, Malfoy, not if we can help it," Harry said determinedly.

The three older teens looked at each other in confusion.  Since when did Harry Potter defend Draco Malfoy?

Harry saw their expressions, and he grinned.  "Best we wait until Dumbledore gets here to explain what's happ—"

"DADDY!"

Harry tensed and turned worried eyes to Angelina.  "Where is she?"

Angelina's mouth moved without her realizing it.  "Upstairs."

Harry dashed to the second floor, leaving a flustered room in his wake.  Angelina looked to Ginny, who was sitting up yet reclining against Draco.

Ginny had a very Malfoy-like smirk on her face.  "He loves her," she said simply.

Draco lifted an eyebrow and looked at Angelina.  "Sickening, isn't it?"

Harry padded down the stairs softly as not to awaken the rest of the house.  He and Hermione would be going to their respective homes in the morning, for it was too late to leave after Dumbledore debriefed the Order members.  He'd been too tired to eat at the time, which was why he was now in the kitchen preparing a midnight snack.  He pulled the jam out the refrigerator and the peanut butter from the pantry, taking the items and placing them on a paper towel on the counter in front of the bread rack.  Mrs. Weasley demanded, if anything, an orderly kitchen, and since her massive spring-cleaning last summer, Harry was pleased to see the Order retained it at such.  He unscrewed the tops of the peanut butter and the jam and began to prepare his sandwich.  His movements were mechanical as his mind drifted to the chaos they left mere hours before.

The Aurors and Order members raided the Shrieking Shack with wands blazing.  Pandemonium ensued, but he'd never been more grateful that he listened to Snape's advice earlier that morning:  "Don't take off the invisibility cloak."  It was the most bizarre comment he'd ever heard Snape utter, if not the most prescient. His scar had seared him awake that morning, but he refused to go looking for Voldemort.  Upon Snape's comment, Harry realized he'd have to stop whatever trouble Voldemort was trying to start.  He'd muttered something to Ron and Hermione about getting something from his trunk, and they'd boarded the train ahead of him.  Harry unlocked his trunk and pulled it out before the porter put the trunk with the rest of the students' luggage.  He'd stared at it, with Snape's words ringing inside his head, and Harry realized it was a warning and a clue some Dark activity would be happening that day.  He took a mental tally of people at the station, and he noticed two distinct absences—Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy.  His heart froze, but his feet began to move away from the train station.  He wrapped the cloak around him and couldn't help the feeling of déjà vu as his feet led him to the Shrieking Shack: the scene of Ginny's nightmare and of Nia's conception.

Harry's grip tightened around the knife, and he spread the peanut butter harder than necessary as he remembered the scene as he walked inside.  Everything was just as Ginny described it—right down to the mirror hanging above the gurney.  Ginny was still dressed, but she thrashed and kicked as the Death Eaters began to disrobe her.  She was finally in her underwear, yet subdued as Draco approached her.  He was the only one, save Peter Pettigrew and Voldemort, who was not wearing a Death Eater's mask.  Harry didn't think he could find Snape even if he wanted to, but his eyes kept drifting to a Death Eater a little to the left of Ginny.  Harry tuned out Voldemort's crock of purifying the wizarding world—the spiel was getting a bit old—and he prepared to make his move.  However, that particular Death Eater made a subtle movement with his hand, and Harry remained where he was.  It was then he knew it was Snape, but Harry was worried.  If Snape knew where he was despite the Invisibility Cloak, what was stopping someone else from knowing?  But Harry didn't have time to mull over that point, for after Snape had made the hand movement, the Shack was overrun with Aurors and Order members.  Harry had managed to stay out of the melee, but all fighting ceased when Dumbledore appeared, cool, calm, collected, and confident.

It was enough to drive Voldemort mad.

As he spread the jam on the other slice of bread, Harry couldn't stop the smirk from forming on his face at the memory of the headmaster.  Dumbledore was fantastic, speaking in that cheery voice he knew made Voldemort crazy as he exposed secret after secret . . 

Dumbledore revealed Draco's new role as the reincarnated Osiris.

Pettigrew screeched, Voldemort hissed, and Malfoy Senior threw off his mask in indignation.

Not that it mattered; what Fate wanted Fate got.

Snape inclined his head quickly, and Harry knew it was time to go into action.  He walked quickly, but suddenly Snape pointed his wand and muttered, "_Acclaro."_

Harry knew his cloak shimmered, alerting the room to his presence.  To make matters worse, he tripped.

All hell broke loose then.

Curses flew again, and an angry exclamation of "DRACO!" could be heard above all the yelling.  Harry covered himself more firmly before he flung himself onto the gurney, allowing the cloak to cover all three of them.  Harry saw a flash of orange light from the corner of his eye just as he felt a tugging sensation at his navel.

The next thing he knew, he was in the Order's Headquarters.

He spent some time with Nia, especially after hearing her scream, but according to Hermione and Mr. Johnson she wasn't really conscious of what was going on around her.  Dumbledore came in the room a few moments later and assured him she would be fine.  Then it was hour after hour of debriefing and explanations.  Finally, Mrs. Weasley shooed them all upstairs to bed, Harry turning away food because his stomach was so unsettled.

That had been a mistake.

Harry sighed and looked down at his sandwich.  His stomach growled in frustration.  He'd been so consumed by his thoughts he'd torn the bread from his rough handling with the knife.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed.

"Ooh . . . potty mouth . . ."

Harry smirked and turned towards the owner of the voice.  Nia grinned at him and tightened her housecoat at her waist.  Her hair was in two pigtails, and she looked extremely cute.  He smiled at her.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" he teased.

Nia rolled her eyes and walked up to him.  She glared at the "sandwich" then chuckled.  "Never let it be said the Boy-Who-Lived was also the Boy-Who-Cooked."

"This isn't cooking, Nia."

She snorted.  "I know.  Imagine what crap you could concoct if you _did!_"

"This isn't crap, Nia."

"Huh."

He raised an eyebrow at the challenge.  "Let's see you do better, then."

She snorted again.  "Be prepared to have the best danged PB&J you've ever had in your life."

She bumped him to the side with her hips and prepared four slices of bread.  He watched her make the sandwiches and felt oddly content, domestic even.  She took her forefinger and thumb and slid it up the knife's blade, catching the excess peanut butter on her fingers and licking it off.

"I want some," he said.

"Hold your horses, now, I'm not done yet!"  Nia spread the peanut butter on the last slice of bread and repeated the knife cleaning ritual again.  Before she could stick her fingers in her mouth, Harry grabbed them.

"Boy!  What are you—"

Harry grinned around her fingers as he licked the peanut butter off them.  Nia's eyes widened in shock.

"You have got some nerve doing that," she said dazedly.

"I told you I wanted some peanut butter."

"All you had to do was get a spoon or wait until I'd finished," she said, her voice still monotonous.

"But then I would not have got that lovely shocked expression on your face."

She narrowed her eyes but didn't yank her hand away.  "Could you give me my hand back, please?  I would yank it out, but I don't want to get bitten."

"I'm not a vampire."

"Teeth still hurt, regardless."

He reluctantly let go of her hand, and she washed it in the sink.

"Since you were so eager, you can put your slices together and have your flippin' sandwich.  I'm taking mine upstairs."

"I wouldn't advise that.  Mrs. Weasley would not be happy if you ate upstairs."

Nia hesitated for a moment before conceding his point.  Mrs. Weasley was a kind woman, but she was also a force to reckon with.

"Now I know where Ginny got her gumption."

He smiled at her.  "And I know where you got yours . . ."

She humphed.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Professor Roberts ring any bells?"

Nia rolled her eyes and sat at the kitchen table.  Harry sat beside her and they ate their sandwiches in silence.  Suddenly Nia groaned and rolled her eyes.  Harry sent her an inquiring look, and she sighed, standing and walking to the cabinets.  She was too short to reach, and she had to prop herself to reach the handles.  Harry watched with amusement as she jumped twice with no success.  Nia threw her hands up in defeat and went to the door she _could_ reach—the refrigerator.  She pulled out the milk and placed it on the countertop, then once again tried to reach the cabinets.  Harry finally decided to put an end to her suffering and went behind her, reaching above her to open the cupboard and pull out two glasses.  He felt her tremble against him, and he put down the glasses before placing his hands on her shoulders.  He rubbed them as she held the carton of milk with an unsteady hand and poured it into the glasses.  She drank from one as she turned and offered him the other.  He took a long swig as well, and they stood there, her back against the countertop and his front very close to hers.

She appeared so small and innocent, and all he wanted to do was hold her and protect her.  He grinned and tugged a pigtail.

"Problem?" she asked.

"Cute."

She scowled.  "Cute is for puppies."

"Adorable, then."

"Babies."

"You are the youngest person in the house right now."

"Shut it."

"Okay."  He leaned his body into hers as he closed the cupboard door.  His eyes never left hers during the task, and she appeared dazed again.

"I shut the door, Nia."

"Why are you doing this?" she blurted.

"Doing what?"

Nia closed her eyes and shook her head.  "It's clearly passed my bedtime, and the lack of food before I just ate has caused me to hallucinate—"

"That rhymed!" he said obnoxiously.

Nia gave him an incredulous look.  "And _which_ one of us is about to be a seventh year?"

Harry grew serious.  "You know you could, especially after the special training."

"We're not done with it."

Harry just shook his head.  "While you were sleeping, Malfoy told us everything—from the dress to the earrings and the extra training you gave Malfoy.  Even Hermione was impressed, and she's the smartest witch Hogwarts has seen in a century.  So don't tell me you're not talented enough, or smart enough, because you are.  I believe you saved all our lives tonight."

Nia shook her head and looked at her hands.  "No, I didn't.  That was all Malfoy.  I only helped."

Harry set their glasses on the countertop and grasped her hands.  He linked their fingers together, tugging them to get her to look in his eyes.  "I mean it, love."

She began to shake.  "I was so scared for y'all . . ."

Harry pulled her into a firm embrace and felt her tears burn his thin night shirt.  "But we're okay now . . ."

"No thanks to me!  I should've been there to help!  What was the point of me trainin' with y'all if I can't even _fight_ with y'all!"

"It was too dangerous—"

"So the FREAK what!" she said in a heated whisper as she shoved him away from her.  Nia turned her back to him, but he knew she still cried.  "Y'all could've died.  Daddy almost did when Kinglsey cursed him!  And Draco . . . he can never go home again.  And what of his mother?  Someone needs to get her out of there, for Malfoy will take it out on her.  That would positively _kill_ Draco if that happened!"

"Shhh," Harry said and got behind her.  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she tensed before settling into his embrace.  "I'm sure Dumbledore has a plan for that . . "

Nia snorted.  "I love the man, but it seems his plans get people more in trouble than out of it."

Harry chuckled and rested his cheek atop her head.  "Don't I know it . . . but I'd rather he plan for me than against me.  Dumbledore is scary."

"Harry Potter scared of an old man," she teased.

Harry moved one of his hands to tickle her sides.  She jumped and squealed, grasping his offending hand.  "Don't _do_ that!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

She huffed and pushed her backside into him.  "Get off.  I'm tired."  Harry complied with her request and gave her space, but as soon as she turned around, he trapped her to the counter, an arm on either side of her body.

"You saw it, didn't you?"

Nia refused to meet his eyes.  "Saw what?"

"The raid.  There's no possible way you could've known Kingsley cursed Snape because _we_ didn't know until after Dumbledore told us, and then you were still unconscious."

"So . . ."

Harry lifted an eyebrow.  "You saw the battle at the Department of Mysteries, too, didn't you?"

She looked at a button on his nightshirt.  "Maybe . . ."

"I'm even willing to bet you brought Sirius back from behind the veil."

Nia shrugged.  "I actually don't know about that.  I didn't even know he'd died until Ginny told me."

"You're a target," Harry determined.

Nia rolled her eyes.  "Ya think?  Every one of us is a target now."

Harry shook her head.  "No . . . I think they _really_ want you.  They want you the most—more than even me."

Nia gave him a sad look.  "Disappointed?"

He grinned.  "I was getting kind of used to being Voldemort's favorite person to screw over."

"He has three new options, now.  And he knows who you are."

"Yes, but he doesn't know who _you_ are.  And I think the Order wants to keep it that way."

Her golden eyes flashed angrily.  "So I'm just to sit on my hands and kick my feet until one of y'all is brought home in a body bag?  I don't _think_ so!"

"It won't come to that—"

"And how do you know that?  It almost came to that tonight!  What if it wasn't Snape who cast the curse on Draco?  What if it was his father?  Or worse, Pettigrew!  That would _crush _me and probably kill Ginny!"

"But it didn't happen—"

"And _you!_  You almost got caught!  Don't you know I couldn't bear it if—"

She immediately stopped talking and gasped, her eyes growing wide.  Harry smiled softly at her and cradled her face in his hands.  He kissed her forehead softly and let his lips linger there. 

"The feeling is mutual, love," he whispered against her skin.

Nia closed her eyes, and tears streamed down her cheeks.  "Why?"

He shook his head, though he knew she couldn't see him, and used his thumbs to wipe her tears away.  "I don't know.  But I told you Fate was trying to tell us something."

Her hands gripped his wrists, and he felt the tremors from her.  "Ever figure it out?"

Harry gave a half smile.  "I think I got the message."

She smirked.  "Care to share?"

His expression grew sad, and she frowned.  "Something tells me you're not ready to hear it."

She glared at him and dropped her hands.  "What _is it with people not telling me anything!?" she said in an intense voice just above a whisper.  "What in God's name is so important that _I_ can't know about it?"_

He dropped his own hands and took a swig from his milk.  "I've told you all I can."

"Bullcrap!"

"That may be, but I still won't tell you.  You're too young."

"Apparently not young enough to keep Pettigrew and his dunderheaded crew from trying to find me!"

Harry's face hardened.  "I know . . . sick bastards."

Nia's face took a pleading expression as she grabbed his free hand and shook it.  "Why won't you just tell me what you know?  Maybe if I knew, I could better protect myself, but this feeling of helplessness ain't doin' me no good!"

He looked at her but didn't respond.  He was afraid to tell her everything.  Every time he'd put his heart on the line for a girl, she'd always rejected him.  He didn't think he could take it from Nia.  No . . for him, third time was definitely the charm, and Nia was it.  He instinctively knew there would be no other girl for him . . . and oddly enough, Nia was still just a girl.  Granted, Hermione had captured the interest of an eighteen-year-old Quidditch player when she was fourteen—even went out with him a few times—but that didn't go anywhere.

He mentally scoffed at himself.  He was just five weeks shy of his seventeenth birthday, and while that made him a legal wizard, he was already thinking of The One.  To be fair, Draco, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all worse off than he was, but at least they were of comparable ages.

The girl he loved was a good three years younger than he.

_Whoa . . . back that broomstick up!_

"What's _wrong with you?"_

Harry jerked and focused his eyes on her.  A hand was in front of his face, and he realized she'd been trying to get his attention.

"You all right?"

"Peachy."

"More like peaking.  You, like I, need to go to bed as well."

"It's not good to go to bed on a full stomach, according to Professor Roberts."

"My grandmother may know a lot, but she doesn't know _everything._  I'm going to bed."

"Wait."

His hand grabbed her upper arm to stay her.  Nia looked at him curiously.  "What now?"

"When will you be back?"

Her confusion deepened.  "Back from what?"

"The States."

Her eyes widened in comprehension.  "Oh!  I'm not going.  I'm staying with Angelina."

"Why?"

Nia shrugged.  "Dunno . . . what's stranger is Grandma's staying at Hogwarts as well.  I think they're trying to keep me from something . . . as usual."

"We're just trying to keep you safe, Nia."

"I am _not a china doll!"_

His thumb stroked her cheek.  "But you're just as precious . . even more so . . ."

She blinked a bit before finding her voice.  "Harry—"

"Have I fixed it yet?"

Harry could tell she was taken aback by the change in topic.  "Fixed what?"

"Your wounds . . . have I healed them yet?"

She looked at him for a long time and sighed.  "I guess . . "

He frowned.  "That doesn't sound very convincing."

"I suppose because it really doesn't make a difference if you did or not."

"Why?"

She sighed.  "I have a distinct feeling I'm very wrong, and to be told that to my face would make me hurt more than I ever had in my life.  So you want to know if you fixed it?  Let's just say you put a band-aid on it."

"Nia—"

She laughed bitterly and backed away from him.  "No, Harry Potter," she said as she made her way to the stairs.  "I'd rather not feel the meaning of the word 'crush' right now."

"I know you have a crush on me," he said quietly.

Nia blinked rapidly and looked at the ceiling.  He saw a sheen of moisture at her eyes.  "I know you know.  But what good does that do me?"

He looked at her with sad eyes.  "You're too young . . ."

"For what, Harry?  Just exactly what am I too young for?"

His mouth moved before he had a chance to stop it.  "My love."

They stared at each other in silence, both wearing expressions of shock on their faces.

"Are you two planning to stand there all night?"

They jumped at the sound of the new voice.  Nia cast a stunned glance to the other person before bolting upstairs.

"What did you do to her?"

Harry groaned in frustration.  "I all but told her I loved her . . ."

Ginny smiled and patted him on the back.  "Congratulations, Harry Potter, you've practically ensured your victory over Voldemort."  
  
  
  
  
  
_Oh!  Sadness!  The second part is now over!  But not the story!  The third part should be up as soon as I finish writing it! Lol, but really, thanks to all the readers—your words and thoughts are most helpful, and even brighten my day.  Thanks to Lib, who is the best dayum beta a gal could ever want—we grow together babe!  I hope y'all stick with me as the trio and Draco go through their final year at Hogwarts, and who knows what kind of ball Fate will throw at them?  Until lata, y'all!~~bana05_


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